


There is nothing new except what has been forgotten

by demented_queen



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Amnesia!Rick, Cinnamon the non-egg-laying chicken, Do-Over, M/M, Protective Daryl, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 80,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3189236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demented_queen/pseuds/demented_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Rick had woken up in the hospital as he did in the very first episode but without remembering who he was, where he was from or how he got there.  The only thing he knew for sure was that his name was Rick Grimes.</p><p>And what if the first people he met on his journey were the enigmatic brothers with the last name Dixon. </p><p>Definite Rickyl smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I write anywhere between 2 to 3 hours a day. So I decided to start this idea today.
> 
> I don't know. I thought I'd give it a shot. Sort of a writing exercise of how things 'might have happened if.'
> 
> The title comes from something Marie Antoinette once said.
> 
> The whole 'let them eat cake' wouldn't work here. :P

 

  
A mass of undulating bodies, all around, surrounding him, grabbing, reaching for him, their faces only gaping mouths, shrieking at him. No eyes.  No nose.  Not one hair upon their heads.  Just those open maws…  
  
And then nothing.  
  
The man rose from his hibernation, a sleep so deep, it left him truly disoriented.  
  
The sun was relentless in its intensity, its golden rays hurting his eyes as he tried to blink them open.  
  
Looking around the bright room, his eyes fell on the vase of flowers, old, withered and dying.  
  
Not dying.  
  
Dead.  
  
 _I’ve obviously been here a long time._  
  
Another question popped into his head just as quickly, looking at the dead flowers.  
  
 _Why did they forget me?_  
  
As he searched around the room frantically, his mind did an equally frantic search.  
  
It kept going over and over the data in his head, but nothing was coming up.  
  
He looked at the hospital band wrapped around his wrist.  
  
 **RICK GRIMES**  
 **BLOOD TYPE:  A+**  
  
The name didn’t ring a bell.  
  
There wasn’t anything.  
  
He knew the name for this.  
  
Amnesia.  
  
Why he would remember the name of his current state, but not something as simple as who he actually was, besides his name and blood type, he had no idea.  
  
Sitting up gingerly, he held onto the support of the IV stand, falling over in his haste to leave the bed.  
  
Despite the pain, he had to upright himself.  He must leave this room.  
  
He noticed the bandage surrounding his waist.  
  
 _This must be why I’m here._  
  
He wanted to play with the dressing, but didn’t dare.  
  
Looking into the mirror in his room, the haggard face staring back at him, he had hoped this would trigger some recollection of himself.  
  
No such luck.  
  
 _Why did_ I _forget me?_  
  
Stepping out of the room, having to push the door open as something was blocking it, Rick made his way out into the corridor.  
  
Walking down the hallway, he noticed something wrong.  
  
Just wrong.  
  
The place was lit by flickering fluorescents.  
  
There were papers, office and medical supplies strewn everywhere.  
  
Everyone was gone.  
  
Peering into the hallway, he could see the decomposed corpse of a woman.  
  
 _It's not there.  It’s not there._  
  
The mantra in his hand kept repeating, but he knew it wouldn't matter.  
  
He opened his eyes again.  
  
 _Still there._

 _What did you think would happen?_  
  
As he walked further, he noticed the hallways had become more destroyed by time or disuse.  
  
 _No, not time.  You know what made those holes in the walls._  
  
The walls and floors were smeared with blood.  
  
At the end of the hallway, he noticed two double doors.  
  
 **DON’T OPEN.  DEAD INSIDE.**  
  
The bar across the doors kept banging back and forth, as if something within was trying to get out.  

  
And just as he had thought that, he could see the fingers of what lay inside trying to find their way out.  
  
This was wrong.  
  
This was all wrong.  
  
 _This isn’t here._  
  
 _I’m not here._  
  
 _Whoever the fuck I am._  
  
He continued onward to the outside, the light blinding him as he opened the door.  
  
There were numerous bodies all laid out, covered in white cloth.  
  
The dead.  
  
It didn’t matter, because they weren’t there.  
  
He kept walking, not knowing where he should he headed.  
  
 _Where’s home?_

_Do I even have one?_

_What about family?_  
  
 _Do I even have one of those?_  
  
He walked past the hospital and came into the town proper, where he saw a bicycle laying on its side.  
  
He at least remembered how to ride one of those, he reasoned with himself.  
  
That’s when he saw the partial body of a woman laying on the grass, it moving its rotted head around to look at him.  
  
 _No._  
  
 _This was not happening._  
  
The thing on the lawn was just a fabrication of his damaged mind.  
  
 _I’m still in a coma._  
  
 _I’ll wake up any minute._  
  
 _Or not._  
  
 _I won’t wake up and stay in my slumber forever._  
  
 _At this point, I'm okay with that._

Riding the bike, he came upon a quiet street with a row of pretty houses.  
  
The suburban dream.  
  
He knew to call it that.  
  
The street looked as if it had been frozen in time.  
  
Children’s toys on the lawn, the remnants of a birthday party and a barbecue on another lawn.  
  
And then he saw the figure.  
  
Stepping off the bike, he called out.  
  
“Hey!  I’m here!” Rick shouted out.  
  
The figure stopped in its aimless rambling of wherever it was going and slowly…  
  
 _So slowly_  
  
...walked towards Rick, its arms at an awkward angle to its body, swaying about.  
  
It was a man in a suit.  
  
Rick got a good look at the face.  
  
This can’t be.  
  
 _No._  
  
 _No!_  
  
This wasn’t right.  
  
The thing ambling toward him was dead.  
  
He knew dead when he saw it.  
  
And this was dead.  
  
 _Are you sure?  After all, you wouldn’t have even known your name if it hadn’t been written on that thing on your wrist._  
  
Rick kept walking backwards from the thing, his hands out in front of him as if to ward the monstrosity from the very depths of hell away.  
  
And that was when it hit Rick, right before the thing could come crashing down on him, ready to devour him, whether it be his flesh or his sanity.  
  
The bodies at the hospital, the thing ready to bare down on him, and the reason he couldn’t remember who he was, why he had no recollection of his past existence.  
  
He had died and was now in hell.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I didn't edit it so the question mark appeared when I posted the first chapter. This is a multi-chapter fic. 
> 
> Also, in case you didn't know, stuff in italics are the person's inner thoughts. To keep it simple, it will shift from Rick's POV (as was the first chapter) to Daryl's (as this chapter is).
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  
If you were to look the definition of a ‘love/hate relationship’ up in a dictionary, you would probably find a family photo of Daryl and his brother Merle, as far as the younger brother was concerned.  
  
He loved his brother, he genuinely did.  
  
But sometimes, he just wish the idiot would fall of a cliff, or just wander off after some nasty bender, and never come back, thereby making sure Daryl was well and truly rid of _that_ anchor around his neck forever.  
  
Like now, wandering around some other small town because they had just been kicked out of their group.  
  
 _Oh come on now, its not like you actually liked that group, now did you?_  
  
During his trek through the many towns and along the desolate roads, he had to listen to an endless stream of Merle’s complaints.  
  
“Them fuckers.  After all we did for ‘em too, ungrateful pricks,” Merle said as he kicked another stone.  
  
A walker had come out of nowhere, and Merle had dispatched it quickly, then went right back to whining.  
  
“Whad’ya do for ‘em, Merle? I was the one tha’ kept gettin’ game fer ‘em,” Daryl said.  
  
“Tha’s whad I said, baby brother, after everythin’ we dun for ‘em,” Merle sulked.  
  
Daryl shook his head.  
  
It was true, he wasn’t too fond of the group but he did feel bad about leaving that kid Carl and the little girl, Sophie.  
  
Glenn too.  
  
The kid was pretty smart and Daryl felt the group might not actually listen to Glenn but surely take advantage of him nonetheless.  
  
“Whad was it that crazy ole lady said, ya’ know the one I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” Merle shouted out.  
  
“We knew lots a crazy ole ladies.  Which one?” Daryl sighed.  
  
“Big Burt’s ole lady, Louise,” Merle recollected.  
  
“Yeah, I ‘member,” Daryl said while looking up and down the eerie suburban street.  
  
No walkers in sight.    
  
Yet.  
  
“She used to say ‘too many cooks in the ki’chen.’  ‘Member that?” Merle continued.  
  
“Yep,” Daryl said, looking around distractedly.  
  
Maybe not so quiet after all.    
  
He saw a figure in the distance.  It was walking haphazardly, like a walker, but something was not quite right.  
  
“Tha’s what was wrong with the group.  That fuckin’ deputy sheriff, Chad…”  
  
“Shane,” Daryl corrected.  
  
The figure looked different from what he was used to seeing.  
  
“Shane, who wuz a whole bag o’ crazy,” Merle said.  
  
Daryl shrugged his shoulders.  He wasn’t too impressed with Shane.  
  
“And Dale, that ole man wuz okay, but he couldn’t lead shit!” the older brother exclaimed.  
  
Daryl had to agree with Merle on that one too.  
  
Dale wanted to hold onto some part of civilization, a part, unfortunately, that wouldn’t hold up in this brave, new world.  
  
“And don’t get me started on Ed,” Merle huffed.  
  
Daryl’s heart constricted when he thought of leaving Ed’s sweet, but broken, wife and daughter back at the camp.  
  
He couldn’t figure out for the life of him why that would bother him so.  
  
 _Really?  You know why.  Got a back full of scars to remind you._  
  
“Even tha’ Morales guy.  All wantin’ to be leader,” Merle shook his head.  
  
“So did you Merle,” Daryl said, squinting so he could get a better image of the figure.  
  
It was male and wearing some kind of shift.  
  
He couldn’t be sure but the guy wasn’t hobbling around like a walker.  
  
The guy was staggering around like the dead, but seemed more confused.    
  
Not dead.  
  
“Yeah, I know, but I didn’ want ta' be, not really,” Merle said, “jus’ didn’t want ‘em ta be leadin’.  They’d get us killed, ya' know?”  
  
Daryl thought back to the group.    
  
There was not one among them that was leader material.  
  
They needed somebody who could pull the group together, someone less bull headed than Shane and more pragmatic than Dale.  
  
Merle was right.

Sometimes he was annoying that way.

  
 _What in the fucking hell?!_  
  
“What in the fuckin’ hell is tha’ all about?!” Merle asked out loud, mirroring Daryl’s thoughts exactly.   
  
The man in the shift, and now that they had gotten closer, Daryl could see it was a hospital gown, was backing away from a walker that had just materialized from around the corner of a house.  
  
Daryl and Merle broke into a run when they saw the thing was about to fall upon the man.  
  
He wasn’t exactly sure what made him run to help someone who couldn’t even get out of the way of imminent danger while looking so incredibly lost.  
  
 _Yeah you do._  
  
 _It’s just what you do._  
  
Daryl aimed the crossbow, pulled the trigger and prayed the bolt hit its target.  
  
It did.  
  
Merle and Daryl watched as the man on the pavement scrambled back from the dead walker.  
  
Now that they were this close, he could see the blind terror in the man’s face.  
  
 _Now what do we have here?_  
  
The man looked up and whispered something so faintly, Daryl had to crouch down to the man’s level, practically right in his face, to hear.  
  
“What was that now?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Is this hell?” the man asked again, this time Daryl not mistaking the broken timbre of his voice.  
  
Daryl looked back at his brother, who had the same look of confusion on his face as he did.  
  
“Naw, it’s jus’ Georgia,” Merle shrugged.  
  
Daryl looked back at the man again.  
  
Why would someone, this far along after the shit hit the fan, still be wearing a hospital gown?  And how come he didn’t seem to know what it was that had attacked him?  
  
And more importantly, why did he think he was in _hell_?  
  
The man’s disorientation was as real and as tangible as the crossbow in Daryl’s hands.  He looked so _lost_.  He just couldn’t leave him.  He had to help him, despite what his idiot brother was probably going to say on the matter.  
  
 _Yeah, and he’s not bad to look at now, is he?_  
  
Daryl shook off his wandering thoughts as he extended a hand to help the stranger up.  “Here, let me help ya’ up.”  
  
The man gratefully accepted the hand and stood up with Daryl’s help.  
  
 _What’s this?  Haven’t felt something like that for quite a while._  
  
“You been bit?” Merle asked as he stepped away.  
  
Daryl just now noticed the blood seeping through a bandaged area in the man’s side.  
  
“Bit?  _Bit_?!” the man asked as if he didn’t understand the question.  
  
“Did one of them things bite you?” Merle hollered back at the man.  “If it did, ya’ as good as dead.”  
  
“I haven’t…um…I’m not bit,” the man said slowly.  
  
“Gotta name?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Um,” the man stuttered as he held up his wrist, “Rick.  Rick Grimes.  A positive,” he finished lamely.  
  
“Daryl Dixon.  O negative, I guess,” Daryl snorted.  “Tha’s ma’ brother Merle.  I dunno what blood type he is,” he shrugged.  
  
Merle stood staring at the man.  “Why’s he wearing’ that thing?  Where ya’ come from?”  
  
The man, Rick, pointed behind him.  “I woke up, ‘bout an hour or two ago, I’m not really sure, and I’ve been tryin’ ta’ find someone, anyone,” Rick said as he tried to hold back the shakiness in his voice while he looked directly at Daryl.  “This is real, ain’t it?”   
  
“Maybe we should find a place to hole up fer tha’ night, somewhere safe, sit down, talk ‘bout it,” Daryl suggested.  
  
He looked to Merle, because he knew his brother, and he would probably start arguing.  
  
Instead his brother just looked back at him, just as confused and shrugged, “Not a bad idea.”  
  
And with that, Daryl looked at Rick and motioned for him to follow, checking the area around them as the trio made their way somewhere safe.  
  
It was good that Merle wasn’t going to fight him on this one.  
  
Because he was keeping Rick.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

  
Rick's POV

 

  
  
  
If Rick had remembered anything about his personal past history, he might have actually known whose house they were currently breaking and entering into.  
  
 _And now that was a strange thing to call it, wasn’t it?_  
  
But since this was a new world with new rules and since no one even seemed to be around to care, who was he to argue?  
  
 _Still it felt weird._  
  
He watched as the two brothers made their way through each room, yelling ‘clear’ after they checked each one, after Daryl having told him to stay in the family room.  So here he was now, his arms wrapped around him as he tried to get some warmth back into his body.  
  
He was so very cold.  
  
 _You don’t really think its just because of the thin hospital gown, now do you?_  
  
Looking around the room, he noticed family portraits of the people who had lived here before scattered about.  
  
There was one framed print with a young couple and a small boy.  
  
 _Did I know these people?_  
  
 _Hell, did I work with the father?_  
  
 _Did I smile at the pretty woman, who might have been a teller at the bank I frequented?_  
  
Rick wasn’t stupid.  
  
He either lived in the town or somewhere nearby where the hospital resided that he had been admitted to.  
  
Looking around the room again, with the family’s history laid out before him, he started to feel his fear and terror being replaced with frustration and resentment.  
  
 _Yeah, that’s right.  I’m resentful of people who are probably dead, or worse yet, roaming the streets out there right now as one of those things, and just how fucked up is that?_  
  
But the resentment was short lived and replaced with that cold dread again, a feeling of utter desolation washing over him like a blanket made of ice and this time he knew it wasn’t because of the lack of suitable clothing.  
  
He just felt so very, very alone.  
  
He was in a house with complete strangers, he had no memories, not even one, and he didn’t even know if there was anyone out there who might be missing him, or if the people _who might be missing him_ were dead themselves.  
  
Or worse.  
  
The brothers came back into the room before he could contemplate anything more, such as the photos scattered throughout or the fact that he was thinking about the people in said photos and whether or not he knew them, and generally feeling sorry for himself when he should be grateful that he was even alive.  
  
 _Yeah, well, that’s easier said than done._  
  
“There’re some pretty simple rules,” Daryl started.  “We keep tha’ curtains closed, no matter what but we can have some lanterns fer now, so’s we can see what we’re eatin’ and such.  But af’er, we gotta keep any light real dim, so’s it can’t be seen from outside.”  
  
“Okay right.  No light, curtains closed,” Rick nodded.  
  
 _And oh!  Food!_  
  
Rick heard Merle banging away in the kitchen, hearing the unmistakable sound of emptied cans being tossed aside,  knowing how everything they ate from now on would probably come from a can.  
  
 _What?  You thought Merle was in there whipping up lobster tail?_  
  
 _Do I even like lobster tail?_

 _How come I even know what lobster tail is but I can’t remember if I have any family photos somewhere with people I can’t remember in them?_  
  
“I uh, found some clothes upstairs.  Some jeans and a button up, underwear, ya’ know,” Daryl muttered.  
  
Rick looked at the picture of the man in the family photo.    
  
He looked rather portly.  
  
“Think they’ll fit?” Rick asked dubiously.  
  
Daryl looked at what Rick was staring at and chuckled.  “Naw, went ta’ tha’ other room.  The kid’s…well, he’s a lot older than he is’n tha’ picture.  We’re ‘bout tha’ same size.  His stuff fit me and you’re just ma’ size…I _mean_ …you’re ma’ size,” he coughed.  
  
Rick stared at the other man.  
  
Well that was damn considerate.  
  
Only moments ago, he had called these men complete strangers.  
  
Complete strangers who saved a crazy man’s life and brought him back with them to give him some food, clothing and shelter.  
  
“I set up a…thing…of water and foun’ some bandages in tha’ bathroom.  I can look at…your…,” Daryl said, pointing to Rick’s side, indicating his wound.  “Merle’ll be a bit.  He hasn’t fucked up tha’ food enough yet,” he smirked.  “Come on.”  
  
And with that Daryl motioned for Rick to follow him.  
  
“What happened, ya’ thank, ta’ the people who lived here?” Rick asked, as he climbed the staircase.  
  
“’S best not ta’ think too hard on it,” Daryl murmured.  “Sit here,” he pointed to the edge of the bed.  
  
Oh yes, the kid was considerably older than he was in the photo.  According to the tassel hanging from his mirror, he had graduated from high school as of last year.  
  
At least Rick thought it had been last year.    
  
Another photo showed the young man smiling, a pretty girl on his arm, both dressed up for their prom.  
  
And it was obvious the young man in question was now in college as was evidenced by the Georgia State pennant hanging from a bulletin board, along with memorabilia indicating he had pledged some fraternity.  
  
 _I can remember things about fraternities, and proms and fucking tassels but I can’t remember a damn thing about whether or not I went to college or my own prom._  
  
“I need to get ta’ the bandage…to take it off,” Daryl said as he looked at Rick, who had momentarily spaced out.  
  
Rick figured out what Daryl wanted and starting pulling the hospital gown away from his chest.  
  
“M’not so good at this, but I had ta’ do this once or twice while on ma’ own,” Daryl sighed.    
  
Daryl unwrapped the bandage, rolling it as he went along.  Round and round he went, up and over Rick, being very careful not to disturb the wound.  
  
Rick leaned into the borrowed warmth from the other man as he surrounded him until the bandage was completely gone and the chill had hit him full on when Daryl stepped away.  
  
“It looks all’right,” Daryl said.  “Man, ya’ were shot somethin’ bad.  I know bullet wounds and tha’ there was pretty nasty…you don’t ‘member nothin’ ‘bout this?”  Daryl looked up curiously from his examination of the wound, a shiver running through the wounded man as Daryl touched it ever so lightly.  
  
“Not a thing,” Rick nodded.  
  
“Now when ya’ say not a thing,” Daryl started.  
  
“ _Nothin’_.  Not a fuckin’ thing.  I mean as in, not _what_ I was doing ‘fore I got shot, not _why_ I got shot, or _how_ I even got shot,” Rick snorted.  

_Who the fuck am I?  Dillinger?_  
  
“Not who I was, ‘cept for my name cuz of this here thing,” Rick continued as he held up his wrist.  “Not what I did.  Nothin.’  I mean, I know stuff, stupid stuff, like that there is a Playstation,” Rick pointed to the game console in the corner, “and that there is a Mac computer.  So I know what those things are and what those Greek letters stand for, but not who I was or what I did?  Ya’ know what I’m sayin?’”  
  
“Yeah, tha’s rough, man,” Daryl nodded sadly as he picked up the towel, wrung it out in the basin and sat next to Rick again.    “This’ll hurt.”  
  
Rick jumped a little as the rag made contact with the wound and the skin surrounding it, despite Daryl’s gentle ministrations.  
  
“Ya’ think,” Rick swallowed before he continued, “cuz I was shot an’ all…that I might be…I dunno how to say it…” Rick sighed.  
  
“Ya’ think ya’ might be someone who deserved ta’ get shot?” Daryl asked as he dried the wound carefully, then started to wrap the clean bandage around Rick.  “Like someone who dun somethin’ wrong?”  
  
Rick looked down dejectedly, watching as Daryl made sure the dressing wouldn’t slip as he rolled it back on.  “Yeah.”  
  
“Were ya’ handcuffed ta tha’ bed?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Um, no,” Rick said, thinking about what he just said, blushing at the slightly awkward question.  
  
He hadn’t been bound to the bed though.  Which probably meant he wasn’t someone who _warranted_ being someone they would have to handcuff to the bed in the first place.  Like someone who would be stupid enough to get into a shoot out with the cops.  
  
That was a weight off his mind.  
  
 _So then, why did I get shot?_  
  
And with that, Daryl stood up so he could complete the task of rewrapping Rick.  “So yer not a wanted man, not like it matters now,” Daryl muttered.  “But ya’ don’t hafta worry ‘bout being someone like… _that_.”    
  
With Daryl’s close proximity, feeling his breath pass on his chest as he leaned down to wind the gauze around Rick, the soothing timbre of his voice as he tried to reassure Rick that maybe he wasn’t a thug who gets into shoot outs with the cops, and the way the strands of hair that were sticking up on Daryl’s head haphazardly kept tickling Rick’s cheek, it was possibly the first time since he woke up that he finally felt like he could relax.  
  
It was also the first time he truly felt warm.  
  
A warmth that reached deep down into his very core.  
  
But it was all over much too soon as Daryl stepped away from him.  
  
“That should hold,” Daryl said as he looked away.  “Iffin’ ya’ want, I could help ya’ wash…”  
  
“Daryl!  Ya’ dun yet?!  Soups on!” Merle shouted as he appeared in the doorway.  “Quit pissin’ aroun’ and git down here.”  
  
Daryl quickly put the rag back into the basin and pointed to the clothes on the bed.  
  
“Those’re fer ya.’  And ya’ can wash up with that,” he pointed to the same rag he had just used.  “We’ll be downstairs.”  
  
“Well, where tha’ fuck else would we be!?” Merle grunted.  
  
Rick watched as Daryl followed his brother out of the bedroom quickly, hearing both of their footfalls as they clamped down the stairs.  He touched the field dressing gently as he thought about the care his new friend and savior had bestowed on him.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t feel so alone anymore.  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually would have gotten this out sooner but I slipped on a grape in my kitchen the other night and really hurt my knee.
> 
> I swear sometimes, my life is a Marx Brothers movie...
> 
>  
> 
> Also, this is in Daryl's POV.
> 
> However when you see *******************, this means there is no POV, except for maybe the room's.

  
  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
When Daryl walked into the dining room and saw the table completely set, with plates and silverware and newspaper acting as a tablecloth, tonight’s entree of pork and beans in a large can being heated by a sterno candle, he almost expected Merle to pop up in a floral apron and pearls, straight out of some domestic housewife reality show.  
  
“Da hell?” Daryl muttered.  
  
Merle walked from the kitchen into the dining room, sans floral apron and pearls, for which, in retrospect, Daryl was immensely grateful.  
  
But there was no doubt about it.  
  
Merle looked… _contrite_.  
  
“You did all this shit?  Why?” Daryl’s eyes narrowed.  
  
 _What does the bonehead want this time?_  
  
Sighing, Merle sat down at the table, his hands covering the top of his head.  “‘M sorry.  For gettin us kicked outta the group.”  
  
“What was that now?” Daryl asked, leaning over the table in a show of trying to hear better.  
  
“Don’t have to be a damn ass!” Merle grumbled.  “Said I’m sorry.  I know’s you wanted to stay and I know its hard out there…alone.”  
  
Merle was sorry.  
  
For getting them kicked out of the group.  
  
 _Are you sure this is Merle?_   
  
“You’re sorry, so’s you went all Martha Stewart?!” Daryl chuckled.  
  
“How da hell you know Martha Stewart?” Merle asked slyly.  
  
“How do you?” Daryl shot back.  
  
“Sit down and shuddup,” Merle snickered.  “Where’s coma boy?”  
  
“He’s upstairs changing and washing up, I guess,” Daryl shrugged, trying to act as casual as he could.  
  
 _He knows._  
  
“Looked like you two were gettin pretty cozy up there,” Merle smirked as he scooped food onto his plate.  
  
 _Oh yeah, he knows._  
  
“Shut up Merle.”  
  
“What?!  I can’t say nothin now ‘bout…whatever is goin on with you two,” Merle coughed.  
  
“It ain’t like that!” Daryl barked out, trying to keep his voice down.  
  
 _God but you wish it were._  
  
Daryl tried to steer the conversation to another place.  “What’s with all the newspaper?”  
  
“Dunno, it’ll just make clean up easier.  Found a whole stack in the mud room,” Merle said.  
  
“Shit Merle.  Cookin dinner, settin the table, thinkin ‘bout clean up.  You all make someone a good wife someday,” Daryl smiled.  
  
The boys looked at each other and laughed.  
  
Turning slightly serious, Merle said, “guess you don’t ‘member but the paper’s how I usually cleaned up after daddy, after…well you know…ma.  You’d think I was house breakin a dog the way I had paper all over the place.”  
  
Dixon childhood memories were something Daryl tended to like to forget most of the time.  
  
Daryl had to wonder about how ironic it was.  Here was Rick, who was trying desperately to remember a past he had forgotten, while Daryl was trying to forget a past that he remembered all to well.  
  
Speaking of Rick, he was hoping his brother wouldn’t try to broach that subject again.  
  
“What’s with Rick anyway?  Saw you changing his bandage,” Merle asked.  
  
 _Did you really think Merle would drop it?_  
  
“Near I can tell, he’s been shot.  He can’t ‘member nothin though.”  
  
Daryl had to really wonder what the hell he was doing, why he would take in this man from the streets.  
  
 _You know why._  
  
He didn’t take in strays.  They were dangerous.  
  
But Daryl was pretty sure the guy wasn’t dangerous.  He may have been shot, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy that was usually on the wrong side of the law.    
  
It didn’t matter if you lost your memory, all recollection of your past.  
  
If you were good people, you were still good people.  
  
He was pretty sure Rick was good people.  
  
 _Did you figure that out when you looked deep into his eyes?_  
  
 _Because you were looking, now weren’t you?_  
  
He was sick.  
  
That was all there was to it.  
  
Big apocalypse.  The end of the world.  The dead getting up and walking around as if it were any other day.  And he was trying to make time with a guy with severe brain damage.  
  
“Is he safe?” Merle asked.  
  
“Safe?  Fuck Merle!  _You’re_ not safe.  ‘M still with you,” Daryl shot back, then sighed.  “Yeah, he’s safe.”  
  
“You sure?  Or is that what you wanna believe?” Merle asked shrewdly.  
  
 _Okay, this is not Merle.  He’s being all astute and shit now._  
  
Of course Daryl wanted to believe it.  
  
That was blind faith for you.  He was inexplicably drawn to the man he had just played nursemaid to.  And it wasn’t just because of the way the man looked.    
  
There was just a way about him.  He felt like he could put his trust in him.  
  
He wished he had met Rick under different circumstances.  
  
But it was just Daryl’s luck.  He finally met someone who makes him feel something, and it’s when the world’s turned to shit and the man can’t remember a damn thing about himself.  
  
 _Gives you kind of the advantage though, doesn’t it._  
  
And before Daryl could continue with his traitorous thoughts, Rick, the man he was having less than pure thoughts about, walked down the stairs and into the dining room.  
  
 _Oh hel-lo!_  
  
Sure, he had seen the man without his shirt on, clad only in his boxers.  But the man cleaned up really well and he looked different now that he was not as freaked out as he had been before.  
  
His hair was combed back and the day’s wear and tear had been washed away.  He was wearing the perfectly fitting gray button up shirt Daryl had picked out for him, (Daryl trying hard not to think about the fact that he had never put that much  thought into clothing before).  He noted that Rick could certainly fill out a pair of Levis and that he was barefoot.  He was hoping this wasn’t some new kink for him.  
  
He looked…  
  
 _Yummy._  
  
Shaking off his thoughts yet again, Daryl pulled up a seat next to him at the table for Rick to sit on, “you must be hungry.”  
  
“I am.  Thank you, for everything.  Sorry, I don’t…,” Rick sighed, and sat down, “I’m just tryin to take it all in still.”  
  
“’S okay,” Daryl shrugged as he went back to his plate of food.  
  
“Nice to be in clothes again.  I didn’t really need to be walkin ‘round with my ass hangin out,” he chuckled.  
  
 _Oh no, wouldn’t want that._  
  
“So, um, how did…well, when did all this start?” Rick continued, obviously having decided to come straight to the point.  
  
“You reckon you were in that hospital room ‘fore this happened?” Merle asked.  
  
“I remember certain things, not ‘bout my life, but ‘bout everything else, and I don’t remember nothin ‘bout all this…”  
  
“That bullet wound, you were out for a long time,” Daryl interjected.  “It shouldn’a healed as much as it had if you got shot after everything went down.  You were in there before, when everything was still normal, ‘m pretty sure.”  
  
Rick nodded his head.  
  
“It started slow at first, no one paid much attention ‘cept for some stories on the news and then it happened real fast,” Daryl continued.  “Like too fast.  One minute, nobody thought nothin ‘bout it then, wham!  No time to think anymore when it was happenin.  People dyin.  Getting bit.  Comin back after dyin.”  
  
“The army?”  Rick asked.  
  
“Army!” Merle huffed. “Yeah they came in.  Shot more people than they saved.”  
  
“Can’t blame ‘em much.  They were scared, just as much as everyone else was,” Daryl said sadly.  
  
“In the hospital I saw bullet holes in the walls…,” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah, hospitals got it the worse, on account of that’s where people were when they got bit.  There were supposed to be a refugee camp, big one, in Atlanta,” Daryl started.  
  
“Should we go there?” Rick jumped, “back to Atlanta.”  
  
“Naw, Merle was in Atlanta with…these other people we were with.  That place belongs to the walkers now.”  
  
“Walk…walkers?” Rick asked in confusion.  
  
“That's what we call ‘em.  Walkers,” Merle cut in.  
  
Daryl watched as Rick tried to eat another bite, but then put it back.  
  
“It’s a bit much to take in, I know.  Sorry.  Just thought you oughta know,” Daryl winced.  
  
“You said you were in Atlanta?  With some other people?  What happened to them?” Rick asked.  
  
Merle coughed and looked away while Daryl exhaled.  
  
 _And what, pray tell, are you going to tell him?_  
  
“Merle don’t work well with others,” Daryl sighed again.  “Him and the main guy, Shane, had a fallin out.”  
  
 _Yeah, he wasn’t too happy when his teeth started falling out of his head when Merle decked him._  
  
“So what should we do now?” Rick asked as he turned to Daryl beseechingly, putting all his trust into a man who had plucked him off the street and gave him some rudimentary first aid.  
  
 _Oh God, don’t look at me like that!_  
  
What he wanted to do was take a blanket, wrap them both in it and hold him all night, telling him everything would be all right.  
  
 _And hey, maybe if you say it enough, you’ll believe it too._  
  
“We’ll stay here the night.  Place is secure.  We’ll be okay so long as we don’t go looking out the windows.  They walk around at night,” Daryl said.  “We’ll decide what to do in the morning.  ’S best we all stay together tonight.”  
  
“You two can do what you want.  I’m takin that Cali-for-nia King upstairs to myself,” Merle said as he got up to go.  
  
“After you clean up,” Daryl indicated the table. “‘Member?  You’re still makin it up to me.”  
  
“Yes Darlina,” Merle simpered.  
  
Merle gathered the newspapers together to haul off to the garbage.  
  
“See how easy that was,” Merle said proudly of himself.  "Kept daddy’s belt from me quite a few times when I was just a young buck.”  And with that, he left to go upstairs.  
  
“Um, we can sleep down here, on the couch,” Daryl said.  
  
“How ‘bout the room we were in before?  Bed’s big enough,” Rick asked.  
  
“Okay, yeah, you okay with that?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Yeah, I am,” Rick chuckled.  “I’d tell you watch out cause I snore or take up all the covers, but I’m not sure if I do.  Hell, I don’t even know if I smoke in bed,” he laughed as he got up and stretched.  
  
Laughing nervously, Daryl conjured a picture of a post-coital Rick lounging in bed naked, a thin sheen of sweat covering his body as those lips wrapped around a cigarette, his other arm above his head, hanging off the headboard.  
  
 _Oh, that’ll help you sleep next to the guy tonight._  
  
And with that thought, both men left the dining room and made the trek upstairs to the bedroom.  
  
  
  
  
***************

 

Nobody's POV  
  
 _Meanwhile, downstairs, in the garbage…_  
  
If Merle had not been so thorough with his clean up, he might have noticed that one of the newspapers used in his make-shift tablecloth, a trick he most assuredly learned when he was a little boy having to clean up after his daddy, he would have noticed the newspaper, the _Atlanta Telegraph_ , that had been sitting under the large can that had been heated by the sterno candle.  The headline read OFFICER SHOT.  And there, in all his uniformed and well-groomed glory, was a picture of Rick Grimes.  “Rick Grimes, Deputy Sheriff for King County, was shot in the line of duty today, in a road block gone wrong.  He is currently being treated for his wounds at…”  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After I wrote chapter 5 of "There's Somethang About Rick," I realized I might be going to the speshul hell for that one.
> 
> Hopefully this redeems myself a little. ;P

  
  
  
Rick’s POV  
  
  
  
  
The faceless creature was speaking to Rick while pacing back and forth, throwing its hands about wildly.  Then it stopped and looked down at him, so full of sorrow.  
  
It too, had no eyes, no nose, no hair;  just a mouth, opening and closing in a mockery of speech, though no words could be heard.  It tried to pick him up out of the bed while Rick fought against it but the thing didn’t seem to care, intent on taking him elsewhere.  
  
Before it could go any further, the figure dropped him back onto the bed as it was swallowed by the throng of thousands of faceless creatures, all of them pulling it with them until it disappeared into the horde.  They would have descended down upon Rick if Daryl hadn’t stepped out of the shadows just then.  
  
“Rick!” Daryl called to him, as if he was far away.  
  
“Rick!”  
  
Rick woke up, a blanket tangled along his legs.  Daryl was crouched over him, the other man holding onto Rick’s upper arms.  
  
“Rick, you okay?” Daryl asked, a look of concern in his eyes.  
  
“Uh…yeah,” Rick uttered as he became more awake.  “Just dreamin.’”  
  
 _It sure seemed real._  
  
Rick peered around the room.  There was the stupid prom picture, the stupid Georgia State pennant.  The now useless Playstation.  
  
Now he remembered where he was.  
  
 _Well, at least you didn’t forget that._  
  
“Sorry,” Daryl winced, “I had to get you up.  I was afraid you’d start screamin’ or somethin’ and you know,” he pointed to the windows.  
  
Rule number one.   
  
Be very quiet so as not to alert the whole outside fucking world when the outside fucking world happened to be walkers and you’re trying to lay low.

That would be bad.  
  
 _You think?_  
  
“Did I make any noise?” Rick asked anxiously.  
  
“Naw, got you up ‘fore then,” Daryl waved Rick’s fears away.  “You were just thrashing ‘round something fierce.”  
  
Daryl exhaled and lay back down on the bed, alongside Rick.  
  
“Sorry…again,” Rick said.  
  
“’S okay,” Daryl nudged him.  “You’re handling everythin’ pretty good, considerin,’” Daryl shrugged.  
  
 _Yeah, considering you’re a basket case and a burden, especially to this poor man next to you._  
  
“Ya got some sleep.  That’s good,” Daryl said.  “You pretty much went out like a light when we first crawled inta bed.”  
  
“How ‘bout you?” Rick asked.  
  
“I fell ‘sleep soon…after ya,” Daryl said, looking away for a moment.  
  
“You watched me, didn’t ya?” Rick asked.  
  
 _And I’m strangely okay with that._  
  
“Yeah, I mean, you…”  
  
“No!  ’S alright,” Rick jumped in.  “Iffen I were you, I’d watch me too.  ‘M not exactly all here right now, ya know?”  
  
Rick lay his head down on the soft pillow and faced Daryl head on.  
  
“We gonna be okay?” Rick asked.  
  
 _Say yes._  
  
“Sure, Merle and me, we been survivin’ out here.  You’all stay with us.  You follow our lead, you’ll do fine,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“I don’t wanna hold you guys back,” he said worriedly.

 _Aren't you already?_  
  
“You met Merle, right?  The only thing that’ll hold us back is that crazy fucker,” Daryl scoffed.  
  
He had said it with annoyance yet Rick sensed a touch of fondness in there.  
  
“‘Fore I came down to dinner, I looked through a phone book I found in the hallway,” Rick sighed.  
  
“What?  Thought you’d call for pizza?” Daryl snickered.  
  
“Looked up my name,” Rick snorted as he turned and looked up at the ceiling.  
  
“Whad’ya find?” Daryl asked as he sat up straight, “you find an address?”  
  
“Naw, nothin.’  There was like a ton of Grants, a Grint and a Griswold, but no Grimes,” Rick said, his tone emanating defeat.  
  
Daryl lay back down beside him.  “Sorry man.  But that don’t mean you didn’t live in town, it could jus’ mean you weren’t listed.”  
  
“Yeah, thought crossed my mind,” Rick exhaled, turning to look at Daryl again.  “I can’t think ‘bout it no more.  I want to, but it don’t matter.  There’s more important stuff now.”  
  
“Shit Rick!  O’ course it matters.  ‘Sides, ya don’t look like the kinda guy who gives up easy,” Daryl smiled as he put his hand over Rick’s hand.  
  
 _So warm._  
  
“You really think we’ll be okay?” Rick asked again, watching as Daryl stroked his fingers over his.  
  
 _Do you really wanna know?_  
  
“Yeah, I’ll teach you how to track, how to hunt.  How to kill those things without a gun so’s we don’t make noise.”  
  
“Hunt?  You gonna teach me how to use that thing?” Rick said as he waved to the crossbow leaning against the wall.  
  
“Sure, ’s easy as pie,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“Like pie is easy,” Rick chuckled.  “Where’d that saying’ come from anyway?”  
  
“Easy on the tongue, I guess, like warm cherry pie,” Daryl grinned as he closed his eyes in contemplation, no doubt thinking of the sugary treat.  
  
“Could go for a apple pie right ‘bout now,” Rick swooned.  
  
“I miss pie,” Daryl pouted.  
  
“Well I _wasn’t_ missin’ pie until we started talking ‘bout it.  Merle bake a lot of pie for you?” Rick teased.  
  
“Fuck no!” Daryl scoffed.  “There’s this diner… _was_ this diner…over on county line.  Best pie in Georgia.”  
  
 _Great, now I really want pie._  
  
“Hey!  I know why you’re not listed.  Why ya got shot,” Daryl cut in, putting a rest to the pie discussion.  
  
Rick raised one eyebrow pointedly at Daryl.  
  
 _This should be good._  
  
“Cuz you’re one of them secret agent guys, like the CIA or some shit.  Deep undercover.  Like that Bourne guy.  Hell, you may not even be from Georgia.  That could jus’ be your cover,” Daryl grinned.  
  
“Hey, maybe I’m like James Bond!” Rick laughed.  “Call me Bond.  James Bond,” Rick said in a horrible imitation of a British accent.  
  
“Okay,” Daryl laughed, “not British cuz that was the worst accent I ever heard.”  
  
“‘M pretty sure I’m from around here,” Rick smirked.  “But if I start to use fancy moves and can kill a guy with my thumb, then I’ll think ‘bout your theory.”  
  
Both men grinned at each other, before Rick realized his eyes were getting heavier and he was visibly fighting off closing them.  
  
“Should get some sleep,” Daryl said.  “Long day tomorrow.”  
  
As Rick closed his eyes, he could hear Daryl whisper, “don’t worry ‘bout nothin’ now.  I’ll be here.”  
  
Right before he fell into another sound sleep, Rick realized Daryl was still holding his hand.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the beginning of this story is Rick being helped by the boys to figure out who he was...is...for...reasons. I had originally toyed with the idea of no phone books because really, who uses them anymore, but that doesn't mean that people don't still have them in their homes.
> 
> I do.
> 
> It wasn't until E_Meckm brought up the idea of the phone book that I realized, yeah, Rick would go there first. So there you go. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you might know I'm from the Seattle area. We've all been praying to the coffee gods around here so tomorrow (today?) is looking good for us.
> 
> So yeah...GO SEAHAWKS!!!!!

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
When Daryl had been a young boy of seven, he remembered having woken up at the house of one of his schoolmates because it had been the first (and last, unfortunately) time his ma had allowed him to go to a sleepover.  
  
Little Nathanial Taylor and he had spent the entire night laying on the floor of his bedroom on a makeshift bed of blankets and the softest pillows Daryl had ever had the pleasure of sleeping on with a sheet over their head held up by clothespins.  They had pretended to be foreigners traveling through the Sahara desert and sleeping in their tent.  
  
When young Daryl had gotten up in the morning with the sun shining brightly through the sheet and despite the fact that he was so warm and cozy in the piled up bedding, he poked his head out of the tent so he could take in the aroma of frying bacon and maple syrup being heated up.  
  
Running into the kitchen, he had eaten breakfast, (and he would tell anyone who cared to ask later that yes indeed, it was probably the best tasting bacon and pancakes he had ever eaten).  After, they watched Saturday morning cartoons on the big color television set in the family room.  
  
That was the first time he had ever truly enjoyed waking up in the morning.  
  
This morning he woke up with someone pressed securely alongside the front of his body, and despite the fact that there were probably walkers roaming right outside the very front door of the house they were currently holed up in, Daryl came to the sudden realization of one thing.  
  
That this was the _second_ time he had truly enjoyed waking up in the morning.  
  
 _I really could get used to this._  
  
 _You probably shouldn’t_.  
  
Daryl shifted up on his elbow so that he could peer down into Rick’s face, who happened to still be sleeping quite soundly.  
  
He knew he should wake him soon.  They should get an early start while trying to figure out the battle plan for the rest of the day.  
  
 _Yeah, you do that.  Wake him._  
  
 _Well, go ahead._  
  
When Rick had lay down on the bed with him the night before, Daryl had never felt such a mixed bag of emotions.  Part of him felt a bit uncomfortable and anxious sleeping next to this stranger who he felt something for.  Another part of him felt so secure laying next to the man, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.  
  
He had wished Rick a ‘goodnight,’ and then laid down, facing away from his new found friend.  Rick had replied, groaning his own ‘goodnight.’  It was only when he heard the unmistakable sound of deep even breathing, sure Rick was asleep, that he turned around and propped himself on an elbow, just like he was doing now.   
  
As he had started to watch the man sleep, he had hoped Rick wouldn’t suddenly wake up.  
  
 _Wouldn’t want him to think you were the kind of person to watch someone sleep, now would you?_  
  
 _And yet, you’re still watching._  
  
Daryl couldn’t help it.  He just wanted to make sure the man was alright.  He wanted to make sure Rick didn’t get up and bolt out of the room when he realized maybe this wasn’t the safest place to be, that he and his brother weren’t the kind of people he wanted to be with (and if that didn’t make something sick churn in his stomach, he wasn’t going to say it out loud).  
  
He wanted to be awake if Rick suddenly remembered who he was and that he had a family somewhere and he needed to get to them _right the fuck now._  
  
Daryl would drift in and out, his sporadic sleep laden with dreams.  Dreams of Rick not being saved and walkers tearing him apart or Rick being shot, bleeding out on the pavement somewhere.  (The dream with Merle running around chasing after their pa with newspaper was just plain disturbing).  It wasn’t until he could feel the bed shifting and the man next to him shaking that he woke up fully.  
  
Daryl had shaken the man awake, then tried to reassure him when Rick had been in need of some kind of affirmation as to how they would deal with, well, life as it would be from now on.  
  
 _Are you sure he was the only one who needed that?_  
  
Now Daryl had always been a tight-lipped kind of guy.  He never volunteered information unless asked specifically for it.   
  
There were those who considered him cold and those who considered him aloof and those who considered him a bit of both.  
  
He never really cared to tell you the truth.  
  
If he was too reticent for most people’s tastes, then that was their problem.  
  
Until Rick.  
  
Being his usual taciturn self around the man wasn’t going to cut it.  
  
He realized that if he was to give comfort to Rick, something the man desperately needed right now having woken up without any memory of his past life and into the current hell on earth, then Daryl needed to come out of his own comfort zone to do it.  
  
Because he _really_ liked Rick.  
  
He wanted to be around him.  He seemed like the kind of guy you could be around, the kind of guy you could talk to and he would get what you were saying right away.  
  
He really did want to show him how to hunt.  How to track.  How to defend himself.  
  
He wanted him in their tiny group.  He would become a great asset, he could tell.  Rick seemed like if he were taught, he could very easily take care of himself and those around him.  He was a survivor.   
  
 _Yeah, you do want all that._  
  
 _That, and you just want him._  
  
And there was that, the fact that he just wanted him.  He didn’t just need him for his group (such as it was) and for how he could contribute.  
  
He just wanted him.  _Needed_ him.  
  
So help him God, he did.  
  
The night before had proven all these realizations, as he lay next to Rick and just talked to him.  He had said what was on his mind and it had made Rick feel a little better.  
  
 _Made you feel better too._  
  
Daryl scooted closer to Rick.  He wanted to reach out and lay his hand on top of the other man’s hand.  
  
He had been allowed that last night, surely he was allowed it this morning.  So Daryl gently lay his hand over Rick’s, where it rested on his hip.  He then settled down behind the sleeping man, facing the back of his head.  
  
There was a tiny smattering of freckles just under the line of soft looking curls at the base of Rick’s neck.  He brought his nose to the spot and inhaled deeply.  
  
There was the whiff of the soap he had put next to the basin last night, along with the slightly musky smell of sweat, no doubt from his tumultuous sleep the night before, but underneath all that, there was something else, a heady emanation.  
  
That scent was all Rick.  
  
He closed his eyes as he committed the smell to memory.  As he exhaled, he noticed the curls on Rick’s neck fluttering with the expelled breath.  
  
 _Oh shit._  
  
 _Well, at least you woke him.  You can get your day started._  
  
Movement started on the bed as Rick sighed, coming out of his deep sleep.  
  
“Please tell me that’s you Daryl, and not one of those things out there…or Merle,” Rick lamented.  
  
“It’s me,” Daryl rumbled.  
  
Daryl tried to imagine Merle snuggled up behind Rick and he pushed that thought away.  
  
It was much too disturbing.  
  
Rick turned around and winced.  “Sorry, I ended up on your side of the bed.  It was…”  
  
“’S okay,” Daryl said as he got up.  Both men stretched and twisted, getting the kinks out of their stiff bodies.  
  
Daryl looked down and quickly turned away from Rick.  
  
 _Well hello morning wood!  It’s been awhile._  
  
“Gotta pee like a racehorse,” Daryl blurted out and ran to the bathroom in the hallway.  
  
Entering the small space, he unzipped his pants and looked down at his traitorous organ.  He would have to take matters into his own hand.  There was no way he was walking out there with this thing.  
  
 _Thank God Merle hadn’t seen._  
  
He started off slowly, trying to bring forth images he usually conjured when masturbating, but his mind was a chaotic mess of blurred pictures and memories.  
  
Until he focused on the back of Rick’s neck.  
  
The freckles.  
  
The curls.  
  
 _That smell._  
  
And then a picture jumped into his head.  Rick clutching onto the headboard, his knees crushing the pillow he had only just lay his head down upon, begging urgently, as Daryl was pounding into him from behind.  He had one arm wrapped around Rick just under his chin, holding him in place as his other arm was braced against the wall, his hand clasped onto Rick’s.  
  
Daryl had buried his nose into the back of Rick’s neck, licking and kissing those freckles, marking that place he had just discovered.  He bit into the flesh lightly right before Rick whimpered and came, his body shivering wildly.  
  
In real time, Daryl came, shuddering just as violently as the vision in his fantasy.  He caught his breath, as he gave himself a minute to savor the wonderful orgasm he had just had.  
  
Cleaning up quickly, he exited the bathroom, running smack-dab into Merle.  
  
“What took you so long?” Merle grumbled.  
  
“I had to take a piss,” Daryl barked angrily.  
  
“That weren’t no piss.”  
  
“Merle!  There’s like three _goddamned_ bathrooms in this house!” Daryl shouted.  “Get off’n my back!”  
  
 _Oh God.  He really does know._  
  
“I’m gonna look and see what I can make for breakfast,” Daryl muttered.  
  
“I made oatmeal.  They had a bunch and I found some apple pie fillin.’  ’S not bad,” Merle shrugged.  “Your boyfriend seems to like it,” he finished as he made his way into the bathroom, Daryl staring after his brother.  
  
 _Merle made breakfast._  
  
He was about to go down to the kitchen when another thought struck him.  
  
 _He called Rick my boyfriend._  
  
 _Merle may be a lunkhead, but he’s not an idiot._  
  
Daryl followed the smell of the apples and cinnamon to the kitchen and there sure enough, was a small pot steaming over a makeshift cooking plate, Rick standing above it with a small bowl, licking a spoon clean of the lumpy oatmeal.  
  
“It’s not apple pie, but this is pretty good,” Rick smiled as he took another bite by putting the spoon into his mouth and pulling it out slowly, licking it clean yet again.  
  
 _Oh holy shit._

 _Please make it stop._  
  
Daryl watched as he put another bite into his mouth, an infinitesimal amount of the breakfast cereal sticking to his upper lip.  Rick did a quick swipe of his tongue into the corner of his mouth before he resumed eating.  
  
Daryl would make sure to use the downstairs’ bathroom this time, keeping well and truly clear of Merle.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the 12th man and the Super Bowl (and our boys getting there...AGAIN), I'll set up this challenge:
> 
> If I can get at least 12 comments, that's one per person, not me answering people's feedback to me, or one person commenting 5 times, then I'll write a PWP Rickyl one-shot.
> 
> Total Daryl on Rick sex. Something dirty.
> 
> And lastly, 12! 12! 12! 
> 
> Sorry, it's just so exciting. :)
> 
> UPDATE!!!!! Feb 1, 2015 7:12 PM Pacific Standard Time
> 
> Okay, so we lost to the fucking Patriots 28 to 24. :(
> 
> But our boys did well - it was a well fought game.
> 
> We are still the 12. 
> 
> And I am so happy about the turnout of comments and feedback, which by the way, exceeded 12. :)
> 
> So I will be working on that smutty PWP standalone right now.
> 
> Right after I stop crying...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you for all the comments and kudos that keep being left on this story.
> 
> Also, I would like to thank everyone for the comments and kudos on my PWP 'You Were Made For ME.'
> 
> I now return you to our regularly scheduled programming...

  
  
  
Rick’s POV  
  
  
  
After the thoroughly satisfying breakfast of Merle’s amazing oatmeal, self-dubbed by the man himself, the three men sat around the family dining table to decide what their next plan of action would be.  
  
Rick was hoping they would want to stay a while so that maybe he can piece together some clues as to who the hell he was.  
  
 _And where would you exactly start, hot shot?_  
  
He sighed as he realized he didn’t have the first clue as to where to start looking for information on himself.  
  
It wasn’t like he could slap a picture of himself on a milk carton that read, ‘Do you know this man?’  
  
And if he did find information as to who he might be, what then?  What would he do if he actually found out that there were indeed people missing him?  
  
How would he even go about locating them?  Would he even want to?  After all, the events around him suggested that their chances would have been slim of surviving.  
  
Would he even want to find out there were people he knew and loved only to find them dead or worse.  
  
 _Yeah, but it’ll keep bothering you._  
  
“I know ’s a lot to ask,” Rick started, “but I wanted to stay here…for a bit…”  
  
“Don’t have to say nothin,'" Daryl said, as he lay his hand on Rick’s.  
  
 _There he goes again._  
  
Rick looked down at the appendage wondering where he would be if it were not for Daryl.  The man, who didn’t even know he existed less than twenty four hours ago, seemed to be there for Rick and was so ready to offer him comfort.  
  
Maybe it was because there weren’t many people left in the world and you had to make friends where you could get them.  
  
Then again, Daryl didn’t strike him as the kind of guy who could, or _would_ for that matter, let just anybody in.  
  
When he looked at Daryl, he realized that the simple gesture of grabbing Rick’s hand had seemed just as foreign to him as well.  
  
 _He’s just as lost as you._  
  
Rick flipped his hand over so he could grab Daryl’s hand, held it and smiled back.  
  
Merle broke the silence.  “Ya thinkin’ of stayin’ here baby brother?  What happened ta ‘keep on movin?’”  
  
“Whassit matter?” Daryl shrugged.  “’S not like we have somewhere else ta go.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Merle sighed as he looked around the room, “we got a pretty nice set up here…for awhile.  Town’s ripe for pickin’ stuff.”  
  
“See?” Daryl said, smiling smugly at Merle for having managed to convince his brother he was right.  
  
 _I bet he never usually gets his way._  
  
“You think you got family here?” Merle asked Rick directly.  
  
“It’s clear as tha nose on your face he’s from ‘round here,” Daryl interjected.  “He was in that hospital over yonder.”  
  
“Yeah, I knows that, but he ain’t got a ring on his finger, like he got a wife or somethin,’” Merle shot back.  
  
Rick looked down at his right hand.  He tried to see if there was a tan line where a ring would have been.  It was hard to tell.  
  
 _Do I have a wife?  A girlfriend?_  
  
Rick looked up at Daryl, who was apparently studying Rick’s ring finger as well, his eyes squinting in concentration.  
  
His very blue eyes.  
  
 _Do I have a boyfriend?_  
  
Rick shook that thought off.  Just because he could admire a man’s face didn’t mean anything.  
  
 _It must mean something though._  
  
“Yeah, but if I was operated on, they woulda taken the ring off, right?” Rick pondered.  
  
“Didn’t think of that,” Merle frowned then looked up.  “How long was you out?”  
  
“We already figured he went in ‘fore the turn, so’s at least a month,” Daryl said.  
  
Something was rattling around in Rick’s brain. 

Something that kept bothering him.  
  
And then he remembered.  
  
“The flowers!” Rick exclaimed.   
  
“The what now?” Merle asked thoroughly perplexed.  He turned and leaned into Daryl, whispering while twirling his finger around his ear, “is he crazy too?”  
  
“Ya know, I can hear you,” Rick grumbled.  
  
 _Yeah, but Merle might not be too far off the mark._  
  
“The flowers looked dead.  The flowers next to my table!” Rick clarified as the two men continued to look at him, not comprehending.   
  
“Flowers,” Daryl said somewhat dolefully.  “Means someone brought you flowers.”  
  
Rick got up and started pacing around.  “I didn’t check.  There musta been a card…on the flowers.  I was so out of it.  I didn’t check.”  
  
Daryl winced when he looked back at Rick.  “Yeah, but don’t those things jus’ say ‘get well’ or, I dunno.  Not like they give full names or nothin.’”  
  
Rick sat down frustrated.  “You’re right.  ’S pretty slim.”  
  
“Hey!  How old are ya?” Merle asked.  
  
“You know, I don’t even know.  Can’t say for sure,” Rick shrugged.  
  
 _Add that to the list of things you don’t know._  
  
“They say you’re as young as ya feel,” Rick laughed.   
  
 _So you’re roughly what?  A hundred?_  
  
“Huh.  Just like Wolverine, man,” Merle mused.  
  
Daryl and Rick looked at the man sitting back in contemplation.  
  
“Excuse me?” Rick said.  
  
“Wolverine lost his memory.  Didn’t know shit.  He was like two hundred years old.  Kept regeneratin’ himself.  You could be like that,” Merle said as he pointed his finger at Rick.  
  
“I could be…what?  Like…like a _mutant_?” Rick sputtered.  He looked over at Daryl, who was currently gaping at his brother as if he had just grown a third hand.  
  
Rick leaned over next to Daryl and spoke directly into his ear.  “I’ve been in a coma for at least a month, pro’lly got major brain damage, but what’s his excuse?”  
  
“Hey now, don’t have ta get all pissy!  How come I’m the one that gotta figure out everythin?!’” Merle pouted.  “I’m the only one comin’ up with any fuckin' thing.”  
  
“Cuz ya haven’t come up with _bullshit_!  That’s what ya come up with?!” Daryl shouted indignantly.  “That Rick’s a god-damned _mutant_?!  Fuck Merle!  You’re a god-damned mutant.  You’re the only living brain donor that ain’t a god-damned walker!!”  
  
“Fine.  I’ll just sit over here an’ keep ma mouth shut,” Merle sulked.  
  
Rick was pretty sure he wasn’t a mutant, especially a regenerating one.  
  
“My only clues are back at the hospital,” Rick said.  “But the place was a real mess.”  
  
“But they gotta have a file on you,” Daryl said.  
  
“Chart,” Merle mumbled.  
  
“What?” Rick said, turning to Merle.  
  
“I didn’t say a thing.  You’ll don’t wanna know nothin’ from me,” Merle said sullenly.  
  
“Merle!  Stop bein’ a fuckin’ baby.  What’d you say?” Daryl groused.  
  
“Chart.  When I was in the hospital that time, ‘member, for ya know,” Merle whispered the last part.  
  
“Merle once got the clap so bad he was put in the hospital,” Daryl clarified.  “Thought his pecker were gonna fall off.”  
  
“Now why ya gotta go an’ tell everyone?!” Merle wailed.  
  
“Merle!  Focus for once in your god-damned life!” Daryl shouted back.  
  
“ _His.  Chart_.  Shoulda been on the end of the bed.  You gotta chart.  Everyone gotta chart,” Merle finished.  
  
 _The chart!_  
  
Rick thought back.   
  
He had left the room rather quickly.  
  
After all, he had been pretty out of it.  
  
He would never have thought to look.  
  
“I don’t know.  There might’ve been.  I was so…out of it…I just left,” Rick muttered.  
  
“’S okay.  I woulda done the same.  But it’s a start,” Daryl said as he reached over and lay his hand over Rick’s again.  This time Rick didn’t even think twice about grabbing Daryl’s hand back.  
  
He smiled at Daryl, excited about maybe having a direction he could go in.   
  
Both men broke eye contact when they heard Merle clear his throat.  
  
“So’s, maybe we should head out ta the hospital then?” Merle said.  “I mean, never know.  ‘Sides, they got all kinda stuff to pick up there.  Stuff we might need later.”  
  
“Is it safe?” Rick asked.  “I don’t wanna put you guys at risk…”  
  
“I been on the road with this jackass,” Daryl huffed.  "Tha's risky enough."  
  
“Hey!” Merle interjected.  
  
“We’ll be fine,” Daryl assured Rick.  “You follow our lead.”  
  
“Fuck yeah, we’ll be okay,” Merle scoffed.  “You’all were in that place for a month, never got yourself eaten, now did ya?”  
  
Rick watched as Daryl narrowed his eyes at Merle.  
  
 _What could that be about?_  
  
He would ask Daryl about it later.  But for now, he had a lead.  
  
It was a long shot, but it was the only thing he had at the moment.

A chart would go a long way to telling him everything he needed to know.

It was more than he could wish for.

The final thought Rick had before they started to get ready for their run was something about being careful what you wish for.


	8. Chapter 8

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
Daryl, Rick and Merle almost had the hospital within their sights, when a walker came out from around the corner of a building.  He aimed his crossbow at the thing before it could reach them, but paused when Rick put his hand on his arm.  
  
“I should,” Rick shrugged hesitantly.  “I mean, I need to get used to… _this_.”  
  
 _You should stop him._   
  
Daryl breathed out.  He wasn’t one-hundred percent sure about it, but it was best to see how Rick could handle himself.  
  
“‘Member what we told you,” Daryl said.  “In the head.  Get ‘im down the first time.”  
  
Daryl had to wonder about the sanity of it.  Letting Rick take down a walker, less than twenty-four hours after having woken up, with what mounted to a five minute training session with a crowbar.  
  
 _Sure, why not._   
  
But the minute it got out of hand, his crossbow would be at the ready.  
  
He wasn’t going to let some walker in a cheap suit take down Rick.  
  
He was bouncing nervously on both feet as he watched vigilantly as Rick walked purposefully up to the walker, stopped and aimed the crowbar at its temple.  
  
Rick exhaled out and plunged the tool straight in, Merle and Daryl watching avidly as the walker dropped to the ground.  He had to pry the crowbar out of its skull, but he managed to get it free.  
  
 _Did a lot better than you did the first time._  
  
“There ya go!” Merle said smugly as he clapped Rick on the back.    “Knew I taught ya well.”  
  
“All ya did was pick out the crowbar for ‘im,” Daryl muttered.  
  
He forgot his brother for the moment as he regarded Rick, noticing how the man looked down at the walker he had just killed.  
  
“You did good…for your first kill,” Daryl said.  “Good for any kill, really.”  
  
And he had.  No hesitation.  He hadn’t let his fear slow him down.  
  
 _Nerves of steel on that one._  
  
 _It really makers you wonder what he did before all this went down._  
  
Rick bent over the body and started rummaging through the walker’s trouser pockets, finally pulling out a wallet.  
  
“You know, money don’t mean nothin’ now.  ’S no good,” Merle said while shaking his head.  
  
Rick sighed and paused in his search, looking wearily down at the ground.  
  
Merle had that affect on people.  
  
“I know.  I wanted…I just wanted,” Rick sighed again as he pulled out the man’s driver’s license.  “This man’s name is… _was_ Wallace.  Wallace Harvey.”  He continued to go through the wallet.  “He had a wife…and a kid,” he finished as he produced a photo.  Rick put his head down, no doubt silently paying his respects to the now dead man.  
  
 _You remember your first kill?  How you wouldn’t look Merle in the face for at least a day._  
  
Daryl contemplated Rick as the man whispered, “Sorry Wally,” before getting up. He then threw down the wallet and stepped over the body.  
   
“It gets easier,” Merle said to Rick as they continued to walk.  
  
“I know.  I know,” Rick nodded as he looked in the distance.  “Jus’ seems wrong, but yeah, I know.”   
  
_Merle does have a heart sometimes._  
  
 _And it just grew three sizes that day._  
  
“We gonna do that to every single fucker he kills?  Cuz this could get old pretty god-damned fast,” Merle mumbled.  
  
 _And it just shrank back down._  
  
“For fuck sake Merle!  Shut the fuck up!  ’S his first geek he offed.  Let the man be,” Daryl groused.  
  
The trio finally arrived at the hospital at the same loading dock Rick had first stepped onto when exiting the building only a day ago.  Rows upon rows of dead bodies were laid out on the dock.  
  
“God that smells,” Daryl gasped as he covered his nose with his vest.  
  
“Do the things…um, _walkers_ , do they have a sense of smell?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah, they can tell the living from one of their own, or somethin’ dead, by smell,” Daryl confirmed.  
  
Daryl noted how Rick seemed to be deep in thought.  
  
“You think tha’s why there’s no walkers over here.  All the dead?” Rick asked.  
  
“Could be,” Daryl nodded, slowly coming to the same conclusion.  
  
It made sense.  
  
Rick apparently, didn’t miss a thing.  He seemed to be storing that information for later.  
  
“Huh,” Rick shrugged.  “Might come in handy ta know that later on.”  
  
 _Why look at that!  Only known the man a whole day and you can read his mind._  
  
Daryl watched as Rick stepped over a body and continued to the door, “’s the door I came out of yesterday.”  
  
Having his crossbow at the ready, Daryl took point and opened the door, while motioning Rick to turn on his flashlight.  “Up or down?”  
  
Rick bent over in thought, “I walked down tha stairs ‘fore so we gotta go up.”  
  
Merle brought up the rear, his knife at the ready.  
  
Stepping into the darkness, Rick shot a beam of light into the stairwell.  
  
“Don’t hear nothin,’” Daryl whispered and stepped further in, the rest following.  
  
The group cautiously made their way up the staircase, entering through the door that would lead them into the hallway, right by a bank of elevators.  
  
“This way,” Rick said as he led them through two doors.  
  
As they turned a corner, there appeared to be a set of double doors, barred and chained.  Before Daryl could say anything about what obviously lay behind those doors, Merle broke the silence.  
  
“Don’t Dead.  Open Inside.  Now what in the hell does that fuckin’ mean!?” Merle asked, completely perplexed.  
  
“Um,” Rick said as he turned to regard Merle, “Ya know, I read it like that too, for like a second,” Rick scoffed while shaking his head.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Merle grumbled, “you was in a coma, brain damage, blah, blah, blah, wha’s my excuse.”  
  
Daryl chuckled for a moment too as he came to wonder how it was Merle could be so canny in one moment and such a dunderhead the next.  
  
 _Like you don’t know._  
  
 _Drugs are wonderful things, aren’t they?_  
  
Daryl knew why his brother wanted to raid the hospital and it wasn’t out of sympathy for Rick’s plight.  Daryl knew that when he had undertaken this mission to find some information for Rick, that he would no doubt have to keep an eye on Merle as well, to make sure he didn’t disappear down some forgotten wing, looking for the pharmacy.  
  
“’S a stupid way to write that.  You go side to side.  Everyone knows that,” Merle sulked.  
  
“‘M sure the folks that trapped them fuckers in there were thinkin’ real clear like,” Daryl scoffed.  “Come on.”  
  
Daryl followed Rick, who decided to go first, seeming to remember the way he had come the first time.  
  
Going down the destroyed corridor, Daryl took note of the state it was in.  Blood on the floors, bullet holes in the walls and the flickering lights.    
  
Rick had to wake up to this.  
  
Daryl was pretty much used to seeing all of this by now, but he tried to imagine a man waking up, without a memory in his head and seemingly completely alone and defenseless.    
  
He absentmindedly brought his crossbow closer to his body, clutching it a bit more tightly at the idea.  
  
“This is it, the South Wing Recovery Ward,” Rick said as he pointed to the sign proclaiming such, his eyes looking at the half-eaten corpse of the woman lying on the floor the whole time.  Daryl noticed the way Rick shivered slightly, his eyes somewhat glazed over.  
  
“We’ll be outta here ‘fore ya know it, Rick,” Daryl said as he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.  
  
 _Hold it together just a little bit longer._  
  
 _You too for that matter._  
  
They continued down the hallway until they came to a room with a gurney partially blocking the doorway.  
  
“This’s the room.  I ‘member havin’ to push that outta the way,” Rick said as he pointed to the gurney.  
  
“So this was in front of the door?” Merle contemplated.  “Huh.  You had to open the door?”   
  
“Yeah,” Rick answered, looking warily around the door before entering.  
  
That gurney and closed door had been all that stood between Rick, lying asleep and helpless in that bed, and the rest of the world.  
  
 _Holy shit!_  
  
It looked like Rick was mentally preparing himself to enter the room.  Daryl watched as the man exhaled and stepped through the doorway.  
  
“You sure this is the room?” Merle asked.  
  
“Yeah.  There’s the flowers.  There’s my… _thing_ , on the floor,” Rick said as he pointed to the IV stand lying on its side.  
  
Rick walked to the foot of the stained bed and looked at the place where the chart should be.  
  
There was none.  
  
Rick frantically got down on his hands and knees and started to look around the floor beside the bed and under it.  He got up and ran to the head of the bed, looking for a chart hanging above.  “Nothin.’  There’s _nothin.’_ ”  
  
“There’s suppose to be a chart, somethin’ here,” Merle grumbled.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said as he walked over to the vase of dead flowers.  “I gotta agree with Merle on this.  Should be _somethin’_ in here.”  
  
Daryl poked around all the dead strands, trying to find a card or something.  He looked at the little table the vase was sitting on.  
  
No cards.  
  
No other flower arrangements.  
  
Nothing.    
  
He pulled the table back from the wall, maybe thinking the cards fell down on the floor somewhere.  
  
Nothing again.  
  
“There’s nothin’ here,” Rick said anxiously.  “I wasn’t thinking clearly, when I left yesterday, but now that I’m thinkin’ ‘bout it, there’s gotta be something.  Paperwork, I mean,” Rick said, his voice starting to waver, “the way everyone left the hospital…if they could leave me, just _leave me_ ,” his voice broke, “they woulda left the chart…that _shoulda_ still been in here.”  
  
Daryl looked at Rick’s face.  
  
He looked so _lost_.  
  
The face of the man from yesterday was back.  
  
“They took my goddamn paperwork but they left me!  _Fuck!_ ” he yelled as he kicked the IV stand and the table.  
  
Daryl knew this feeling.  
  
He remembered it from when he was a little boy left in the woods to fend for himself.  
  
Abandonment.  
  
 _Of course, this right here pretty much takes the cake._  
  
“Nurses station,” Daryl said.  “We passed the nurses station comin’ in here.”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick nodded, “yeah.”  
  
“Room number’s 450!” Merle called out.  
  
 _There goes Merle again._  
  
 _Will wonders never cease?_  
  
All three men ran out of the room, still scanning the hallways for danger as they made their way to the nurse’s station.  
  
Rick ran up to the counter, setting his eyes on the chart holder on the wall, just under the clock.  
  
It hadn’t been disturbed.  
  
Walking up slowly to the thing, he noticed a few files, one of them standing out amongst the others.  
  
“It’s my file,” Rick said, breathing in.  “It’s my god-damned file!”  
  
He reached up and grabbed the thing down, opening it quickly.  
  
Daryl watched as the man’s eyes focused on the contents within.  
  
“So, whassit say?” Merle asked.  
  
“Rick?” Daryl asked, as he watched Rick look up from the file, while staring into space, letting the file drop out of his hands.  
  
“There was just one thing in there,” Rick said.  “A transport order.  I was to be med-evaced to Atlanta.  All my paperwork was sent on ahead,” Rick tittered.  “They got my damn paperwork sent on ahead.  They just forgot _me_!” Rick shouted as he threw his hands up in the air.  
  
“Typical bean counters.  Puttin’ the cart ‘fore the horse, you bein’ the horse,” Merle said.  
  
“’S not helpin’ Merle,” Daryl muttered.  
  
“Jus’ sayin,’” Merle pouted.  
  
Daryl wanted to go to Rick, the man looked so dejected.  
  
And why?  
  
Because they forgot him.  
  
Because a bean counter, as Merle so eloquently put it, was better at sending off paperwork then actual people.  
  
 _Yeah, and if you could find that bean counter, you’d give him a fruit basket._  
  
“Well that was a bust,” Merle griped then looked around innocently.  “Could still look around.  Gotta be stuff we can use here.”  
  
“I bet,” Daryl said, narrowing his eyes at his brother.  
  
 _This is gonna be a problem._  
  
Deciding to leave the recovery wing of the hospital, Daryl walked alongside Rick, who seemed to be deep in thought.  
  
“Sorry,” Daryl winced, “‘bout, well, everything.’”  
  
Rick stopped and looked back at Daryl.  
  
“I’m sorry there was no file.  Cuz I’d like to know more ‘bout me.  But I’m not sorry,” Rick paused and reached out to place his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, “you need to understand this Daryl.  ‘M not sorry that they didn’t send me along to Atlanta.  Cuz I _found you_.”  Rick gave him a small smile, faced forward and followed Merle, leaving Daryl looking utterly dumbfounded behind him.  
  
 _Well alright then._  
  
Shaking his head, and with a slightly lighter step in his walk, Daryl followed the other two men.  
  
  
  
  
Nobody’s POV:  
  
  
Had the trio of men decided to move the half-eaten corpse of the woman in the South Wing Recovery Ward, for whatever reason, they might not have learned that her name had been Julie Madison or the fact that she was the second-in-command at the nurse’s station in that very same recovery ward, or the fact that she had been there to see the nice lady and her son come to visit their husband and father whenever they could or the nice man, who happened to be a deputy sheriff for King County, who had also coincidentally hit on her, come with the flowers and talk to the man who had been his partner.    
  
What they would have learned however, was that Julie Madison had been carrying the file that was to be sent forward to Atlanta, along with Rick Grime’s comatose body.  They would have been able to flip through a rather large file, one containing all pertinent information on one Rick Grimes.  Julie had thought it would have been a nice gesture to include all of the cards Mr. Grimes had received while he was asleep, including the handmade one from his son, a comic he drew, of his father getting shot and developing special powers during his sleep, emerging from his coma a superhero.  
  
But no one moved Julie, and the file continued to sit in a pool of blood.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I just referenced the Grinch...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was thinking of another fun game. I used to ask for prompts for drabbles. When you comment here, if you want, go ahead and give me a prompt. We're not talking about me writing a whole one-shot or series or anything, just drabbles. And oh yeah, if you have a ship preference, I'll take that into consideration.
> 
> Like, I wanna see Rick and Daryl tripping on mushrooms at Woodstock or something. But remember, drabbles aren't very long. So okay. Let the games begin.

  
  
  
Rick’s POV  
  
  
It was too many bodies, all climbing over each other to get to him.  Reaching, grasping, their mouths (still the only thing visible on their bodies) opening and closing as they tried to get any part of him they could into their mouths.  
  
And the pain radiating from his head!  It was too much.  Too much.  
  
One body had snatched him away from the horde, settling him into the protective cradle of his arms.  They were now floating on a cloud, the man behind him, stroking his hair, nuzzling his head against his own.  Another hand was rubbing at his arm.  
  
It was warm.  
  
It was welcome.  
  
It was safe.  
  
He didn’t want to come out of this sleep.  
  
“Rick,” came the voice behind him.  
  
“Rick, open your eyes, please,” he could hear Daryl’s voice plead.  “ _Rick._ ”  
  
His eyes were slow to open, aimlessly taking in the scene before him.  
  
Playstation.  Prom picture.  Georgia State pennant.   
  
The boy’s bedroom.   
  
The bedroom he had slept in the night before.  
  
“He’s comin’ ‘round baby brother,” Merle said as he jumped in front of Rick’s wandering eyes.  
  
Behind Merle were two people, both African American.  A man and a boy, maybe his son.  
  
Rick squeezed the hand that was holding him securely from behind, around his waist, receiving an answering squeeze in return.  
  
He didn’t need to look behind him to know who was trying to aid in his comfort.  
  
 _As if._  
  
“Hey I’m Merle,” Merle said as he pointed to himself.  “That’s Daryl behind ya.  Now I know’s ’s hard to take in, but the world’s gone to shit…”  
  
Rick looked back at Merle blankly.  “I know who the fuck you are,” Rick griped.  
  
“Oh, thought maybe you lost your memory again,” Merle shrugged.   
  
“What happened?” Rick asked as he rubbed the back of his head.  
  
“This _ass_ hit you with the damn shovel!” Daryl yelled at the man standing behind Merle.  
  
Rick focused his attention on the guy Daryl was pointing at, who seemingly appeared quite shamefaced as he looked directly back at Rick.  
  
“Did I wrong you in some way?” Rick asked incredulously.  
  
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man sighed as he came forward, stepping around Merle.  “I was just protecting my boy.”  The man turned to the younger man, “this is my son, Duane.  I heard yelling and arguing and I saw you there, with the crowbar…”  
  
“Was protection’ myself too,” Rick continued.  
  
“I get that.  You can’t be too careful right now.  I acted foolishly.  I just didn’t want to take chances,” the man prattled.  “There’s stuff I’ve seen on the road…bands of men, taking…”  
  
“I get it,” Rick reasoned as he put out his hand, to stop the man from rattling off any more excuses.  
  
 _I wouldn’t trust me right now either._  
  
“You couldn’t say something.  Or hide?” Daryl huffed from behind.  
  
“I saw him bent over, thought he might be hurt.  Maybe bit,” the man said.  “Can’t be too careful.”  
   
“Your side hurtin’ Rick?” Daryl asked quietly in his ear, squeezing him again.  
  
“A bit,” Rick winced, then chuckled.  “Head hurts more now.”  
  
“Sorry, again,” the man cringed.  “Name’s Morgan by the way,” he said as he extended his hand.  “I know it don’t mean much right now.”  
  
 _It doesn’t._  
  
 _But it probably will._  
  
Rick looked down at the offered hand, then extended his own and shook.  “Hey!” Rick shot up from his reclining position on the bed, “you live here?  In this town?”  
  
“Naw,” Morgan shook his head.  “We just decided to stop here, on our way through.  Daryl and Merle here already told me ‘bout your situation.”  
  
Rick sighed and leaned against Daryl, the man providing a solid presence behind him.  “Shit, I’m sorry, your legs must be crampin.’”  
  
“’S okay,” Daryl shrugged, Rick feeling the movement on his back.  
  
Rick glanced over to where Merle was looking at both men and chuckling.  
  
“Somethin’ funny Merle?” Daryl groused.  
  
“Naw, Darlena,” Merle mocked in a high-pitched voice.  
  
Rick made to get up, but Daryl held him back.  “Stay put.  You got one hell of a knot back here on your head.”  
  
“I had enough lyin’ in bed already,” Rick said as he tried to make another attempt at getting up, this time feeling a bit dizzy and light-headed and fell backward onto Daryl again.  
  
“ _Fuck Rick!_   Sit your stubborn ass back down,” Daryl said forcefully, as he kept Rick in place.  
  
Rick figured he would listen just this once.  
  
 _Just this once?_  
  
 _And how do you know you were always this incredibly thick headed?_  
  
Rick stopped for a moment and glared up at Merle.  “Okay, I ‘member standin’ guard outside the door of the hospital when Daryl went rushin’ back in to get you, Merle.”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl admitted, as he scowled at Merle, his brother now being the one to look down in shame.  
  
“Then I ‘membered my wound started to hurt, and I was bent over…in pain…and when I got up, I saw Morgan here.  Tha’s when ya hit me with the shovel,” Rick said with a frown, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his head, running his fingers over that of Daryl’s.  
  
“You do know how sorry I am, right?” Morgan said as he grimaced.  
  
“Guess I should be glad ya didn’t shoot me,” Rick grumbled.   
  
“Yeah, I say’s we make sure this feller stays far away from us.  Coulda killed you,” Merle said, happy that attention seemed to be away from him for the moment.  
  
Rick stared icily at Merle, all his attention focused on the older Dixon.  
  
“And _you!_   You think you got the right to talk!  You were gone.  _Just gone._   Vanished.  Daryl was flippin’ out!” Rick said as he squeezed Daryl’s hand.  “Did you get what you were looking for?” Rick sneered.  
  
“Now look here…,” Merle started.   
  
Rick wondered where that shovel was because he wanted to whack Merle over the head with it.  
  
“Don’t fuckin’ finish that sentence,” Daryl growled.  “I knew what you wanted when we was goin’ to the hospital and it weren’t Rick’s chart.”  
  
“We needed stuff, Daryl,” Merle tried to rationalize.  “Bandages, antiseptic, antibiotics,” he rattled off, as he ticked off on his fingers.  “If nothing else, for ya boyfriend here.”  
  
 _Boyfriend?_  
  
“ _Bullshit!_ ”  Daryl yelled, moving out from behind Rick, rising up off the bed and getting right up into Merle’s face.  “Is Rick right?  Ya get what you wanted?  Ya got enough to keep gettin’ high?”  
  
“No,” Merle said in s small voice.  
  
“Yeah _right!_   Fuck you Merle!”  Daryl was panting, out of breath, as he continued to yell at his brother.  “You put us in danger, traipsing all over that damn hospital.  You got us kicked outta the group.  Lost your medication to them.  And now you wanna keep puttin’ us in danger all over again.  Maybe Rick and I should start our own group, leave your ass…”  
  
“Daryl!”  Merle shouted, looking slightly contrite.  “Enough.  I really did get that stuff.  The stuff I said I would.”  
  
“Whatever,” Daryl said as he threw his arms up in the air.  
  
Merle threw the duffle bag he had filled up at the hospital earlier, the only bag he had come out with.  Rifling through the bag quickly, Daryl pulled out items such as rolls of gauze, packs of bandages, hydrogen peroxide and various bottles of pills.  “Huh,” Daryl huffed, “looks like you ain’t lyin.’”  
  
“I was gonna…can we talk about this somewhere else?” Merle whispered to Daryl.  
  
“No Merle,” Daryl said angrily.  “This is it.  You got something’ ta say, say it now.”  
  
“I was gonna.  Found enough shit to keep me high for a _long_ fuckin’ time,” Merle started but was stopped when Morgan interrupted.  
  
“Duane, go down to the kitchen.  See what we can fix for supper,” Morgan told his son.  
  
“But I wantsta stay,” Duane whined.  “It’s gettin’ good.”  
  
“What the hell was that outta your mouth just now?” Morgan said indignantly.  
  
“But I _want to_ stay,” Duane sighed.  
  
“No, go,” Morgan told him.  All the men watched as Duane exited the room.  “Go ahead.”  
  
“Found enough to keep me lit for the rest of this damn apocalypse.  I had it in my _god-damned hands!_ ” Merle said adamantly as he held his hands out.  “Then I put all the shit back.”  
  
“What?” Daryl said in confusion.  “You…”  
  
“Cuz I wanna stay clean,” Merle said quietly.  
  
“Like ya wanna stay clean?!” Daryl mocked.  “Since when?”  
  
“Since the group took my fuckin’ bag of stuff!  Since we been travelin.'  I’m, what’s that god-damned word they use,” Merle stammered.  "When you go off tha shit an' it's leavin' your body."  
  
“De-toxing?” Morgan supplied.  
  
“Yeah.  Mostly at night, when it gets bad, when I’m not around ya,” Merle shrugged.  
  
“So, you wanna get clean, cuz Shane took your bag of candy?” Daryl scoffed.  “Like that’s enough.”  
  
Merle stood directly in Daryl’s path and stared at him intently.  “You wanna know why I really wanna stay clean baby brother?!  Cuz I saw your god-damned back when you was sleepin.’  Cuz I weren’t there to stop daddy!  Cuz I _gotta_ be here now, for _you!_ ” he said as he pointed his finger at Daryl.  “Gotta fuckin’ be here for him too,” Merle said as he pointed in Rick’s direction.  “Don’t know ‘bout them,” he said as he pointed to Morgan.  
  
“Merle?” Daryl whispered.  
  
“I _wanna_ be here for ya now,” Merle sobbed, his eyes pleading with Daryl to listen to him, to believe him.  “All that shit’s almost gone outta me.  That poison I been puttin' in me.  Couldn’t think straight.  I can see things now, see ‘em more surely…”  
  
“Thought you were thinkin’ more clear-like lately,” Daryl contemplated.  
  
Rick looked between both brothers.  
  
It was evident to anyone who looked close enough how Merle’s sudden humbleness was affecting Daryl, whose stance toward his brother lightened, not by much, but lightened none-the-less.  
  
And even without having known the brothers before, Rick could sense how repentant, how _sorry_ , Merle had truly become.  
  
Maybe he wouldn’t have to use that shovel on Merle after all.  
  
“Not to break up the moment,” Morgan said, as he came forward, “but since we're talking 'bout, I dunno, comin' clean and all, I know we all got off on the wrong foot…”  
  
“I oughta put a bolt in your ass for what ya did to Rick!” Daryl snarled.  “Hittin’ a man with a shovel,” he muttered, as Rick placed his hand on Daryl’s arm to still it.  
  
“What is it Morgan?” Rick asked.  
  
“Look I don’t know you assholes from shit, but,” he sighed, “I can see you’ll are good people.”  Morgan looked pointedly at Merle, “somewhat.  Strength in numbers right?”  
  
Rick chuckled as he nodded his head, looking at Daryl as he did so.  Daryl too nodded his head in agreement.  
  
Both men directed their gaze at Merle, who also nodded his head, rolling his eyes as he did so.  
  
At that moment, Rick held his head in his hands as sudden pain emanating from that knock on his head shot through him.  
  
“Mother-fuckin!’” Rick groaned.  
  
“Rick?  You okay,” Daryl asked in concern.  
  
“Yeah, just wish I had somethin’ stronger than aspirin.”  
  
Merle sighed and held out his hand, two pills sitting in his palm.  “This should do the trick.”  
  
All three men looked up at Merle in disbelief.  
  
“What?  Pfft!  So’s I kept a little somethin,’” Merle pouted, rolling his eyes.  
  
Rick would make sure to keep that shovel close.  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's weird how this worked out; I didn't exactly plan it that it would land the day before Valentine's Day, but this chapter is kind of schmoopy.
> 
> Also, thar be drugged!Rick afoot!
> 
> *whistles innocently*

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV

 

  
  
  
“Hey!  ‘M gonna go up and make sure Rick’s okay,” Daryl said casually, as he pointed upstairs.  
  
He had just finished a rather decent dinner of canned chili with some peaches on the side.  Now he wanted to check up on Rick, who had begged off dinner, or anything else for that matter, right after he had taken the pain medication Merle had procured.  
  
“Yeah, go check up on your boyfriend,” Merle smirked.  
  
“Fuck you, Merle,” Daryl replied testily.  
  
 _Yeah, fuck him for being right._  
  
Morgan, Merle and Daryl watched as Duane went back into the kitchen with a stack of bowls, his father having told him to do the dishes earlier.  
  
“Can you guys please watch the fuckin’ language in front of my boy?” Morgan groused, as he pierced each man with an accusatory stare.  
  
“Fuckin’ language?!” Merle grumbled.  “Tha’s like the pot callin’ the kettle black,” he said as he pointed his finger at Morgan’s chest.  
  
“ _What?!_   Is that a jab at my race or something?” Morgan glared righteously.  
  
“’S just a expression,” Merle shrugged, looking slightly defensive.  
  
 _Uh oh.  This didn’t look good._  
  
“I know.  Just fuckin’ with ya,” Morgan laughed as he punched Merle in the arm.  
  
 _That’s a relief._  
  
Daryl laughed along with Morgan, while Merle huffed out a ‘hardy har har.’  
  
“We got ourselves a real Richard Pryor over here,” Merle jeered.  
  
“I’ll try not to run ‘round with my head on fire, so as not to alert ourselves to walkers,” Morgan scoffed.  
  
“Well I’ll be god-damned!” Merle chuckled.  “You’re alright.”  
  
 _Aw, Merle made a friend._  
  
 _Will wonders truly never cease._  
  
“You still here?” Morgan said in surprise, following it with a ‘shooing’ motion.  “Go tend to your boyfriend.”  
  
 _Great, now it’s the two of them._  
  
Daryl made his way up the stairs and into the bedroom he and Rick were sharing.  Stopping just short of the bed, he looked fondly down at Rick, who happened to be curled up on top of the bed.  
  
Daryl was falling for Rick.  
  
There was no doubt about it.  
  
Actually, maybe ‘falling’ was the incorrect word.   
  
He had fallen.  
  
And fallen _hard_.  
  
He was nothing more than a splat on the pavement where he had landed.  
  
He had just been jovial with Morgan downstairs, but before that, just after the man had hit Rick with that accursed shovel, he had been prepared to rip the man’s throat out.  
  
 _It’s a good thing you didn’t, now isn’t it?_

 _His son has been through enough, losing his momma the way he did._  
  
And if his attachment to Rick wasn’t enough, Daryl was slightly overwhelmed about another surprising turn of events.  
  
Merle wanted to get clean.  
  
Scratch that.  
  
He wanted to _stay_ clean.  
  
And why? 

For him.  
  
 _For Rick too.  Don’t forget that._  
  
 _But then, that would be for you too, now wouldn’t it?_  
  
Daryl was pretty sure he had never seen his brother look so conscience-stricken.    
  
It touched Daryl in a way his brother had never been able to before.  
  
His attention was brought back to the bed as he noticed Rick start to stir.  
  
“You okay?” Daryl asked as he lay down on the bed, facing Rick.  
  
“Sure,” he smiled lazily.  “Drugs are _great,_ ” he said, elongating the word ‘great,’ as his eyes tried to focus in on Daryl.  
  
 _Oh God, he’s high._  
  
“Maybe he shoulda given you one pill, not two,” Daryl said, amusement in his voice.  
  
“Naw, naw.  ’S okay,” Rick slurred.  “It’s all okay.  You’re okay.  I’m okay.  Merle’s _really_ okay.  That guy with the shovel…he’s okay too.  Son of shovel guy 's okay too.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Daryl grinned.

 _He's not just high.  He's totally wasted._  
  
“I wuz thinkin,’” Rick said, “you know the bodies back at the hos’ital?  The dead ones?”  
  
“Were there any others?” Daryl chuckled.  
  
“Yeah, those,” Rick said.  “We should bring ‘em back here,” he said as he moved his hand in a circle, indicating the house.  For all Daryl knew he was indicating the bed.  “We dig a big…um, what’s that thing ‘round castles?”  
  
“A moat?” Daryl chuckled.  “You wanna dig a moat.  ‘Round what? The _house?!_ ”   
  
“Naw naw.  The town.  The whole fuckin’ _town!_   No walker’ll come 'round, man.  It’d be great,” Rick said excitedly.  
  
 _He must have been a fun guy at parties._  
  
Lewd images of making out with a completely stoned Rick at parties swam through Daryl’s head.  
  
Those were regretfully replaced with real flashes of memories, of all the guys Merle had brought back to the house who liked to get high.  They had never been this much fun.  
  
Some of them had been downright dangerous even.  
  
“Can you see Merle luggin’ those bodies 'round town?” Daryl sputtered.  
  
Rick looked off to the side as if in deep thought then giggled.  “’S funny, but yeah, he wouldn’t.  What if we told him they were somethin’ else, so’s he didn’t know?”  
  
“I think he’d know,” Daryl laughed.  “Merle’s not that dense.”  
  
 _Not now at least._  
  
“Maybe he’d enjoy it better if we separated the ones with big tits away from the rest,” Rick said, as helpfully as his inebriated state could possibly allow.  
  
The word ‘tits’ coming out of Rick’s mouth just seemed all kinds of wrong.  
  
Not that he would make Merle lug bodies around, but he had to give Rick points for knowing his brother’s weaknesses.  
  
Trying to steer Rick away from the conversation about moats and dead bodies and big tits, Daryl said, in all seriousness, “you did real good today.  Killin' that walker like ya did.”  
  
“’S easy.  Like pie,” Rick giggled, then paused, his eyes glazed over in complete bewilderment.  “They jus’ stand there an’ let ya!”  
  
“They are pretty dumb, ain’t they?” Daryl chortled.  
  
“I wanna get somethin’ better though.  Crowbar’s stupid,” Rick pouted.  
  
“Yeah, whad'ya want then?” Daryl asked, trying not to let Rick see how his pouting affected him.  
  
 _Men with a mouth like that should not be allowed to pout._  
  
“A machete,” Rick said, his eyes lighting up.  
  
“Okay, maybe we’ll hit up a hardware store,” Daryl nodded.  
  
Rick frowned and looked him head on.  “You really okay Daryl?”  
  
“I thought we was all okay?” Daryl smiled.  
  
“I like Morgan,” Rick said.  “He seems like good people.  His son too.”  
  
It wasn’t much, but just the tiniest spark of jealously ran through Daryl at the moment.  
  
“Yeah, but if he goes near you with anythin’ garden-like again, I’m gonna put that bolt inta his ass like I promised.”  
  
“Of course you will!  You’re my boyfriend!” Rick said as he playfully poked Daryl’s forehead.  
  
 _Oh God._  
  
“Am I now?” Daryl said, one eyebrow raised.  
  
“Merle said,” Rick said.  “’S gotta be true.”  
  
“Yeah, well Merle says a lotta shit.  He thought Facebook wouldn’t catch on too,” Daryl said matter-of-factly.  
  
“Well, I like ya,” Rick said as he smiled fondly.  “You’re nice and you take care of me,” Rick said as he reached out and ran his finger down Daryl’s cheek.  
  
 _Shit!_  
  
“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Daryl said as he tilted his head down, finding it difficult to make eye contact with the other man.  
  
“Whad I say?” Rick asked sadly, his brow creasing.  
  
“You…you’re just…you’re _high_ Rick,” Daryl sputtered.  “Ya don’t know what you’re sayin.’”  
  
“No Daryl.  ‘M not.”  Rick paused, looked out into space and giggled again.  “Okay, yeah I am pretty wasted.  But I know what I’m sayin.’  I’d be lost without ya right now.”  Rick wiggled closer to Daryl and put his head under his chin, “you’re warm too.”  
  
 _It’s not about you though._  
  
 _It could have been anybody who had taken him in._  
  
“It’s not ‘bout me Rick.  It coulda been anybody else, anybody who’d taken you in,” Daryl repeated the words from his treacherous thoughts.  
  
Rick poked his head up, a cunning look on his face.  “Hmmm, lemme see.  I’ll go sleep with Merle, or Morgan, then see if 's true.”  
  
“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” Daryl grumbled as he held onto Rick’s arm before he could even _think_ about getting off the bed, Rick smiling in triumph as he had made his point.  “Come on, lay down, with me.”  
  
 _Well he’s got your number._  
  
“’S okay Daryl.  I like it here with you.  I know, you’ll take care of us.  Of me,” he said as he traced Daryl’s cheek again, sighing wistfully.  
  
 _I wonder…_  
  
Daryl moved forward and placed a chaste kiss upon Rick’s lips.  A ghost of a kiss really.  
  
 _Knew they would be soft._  
  
 _Perfect._  
  
Rick didn’t jump, didn’t hurl accusations at him.  He just smiled dreamily and breathed out, “that was nice.”  
  
Daryl noticed Rick’s eyes become heavier, finally closing.  He watched attentively as his breaths started to even out, as if in sleep.  
  
Rick was still curled into Daryl’s body, tucked up next to his head, his hands resting just under Daryl’s chin, against his chest.  
  
Daryl brought his arms up and around Rick’s prone form, holding onto him.  
  
Daryl had fallen. 

Fallen pretty hard for Rick.  
  
But maybe now, just maybe, Rick was falling too.  
  
Whether Rick was falling or not, or if this was just all drug-induced, one thing was for sure.  
  
Rick was _his_ now.  
  



	11. Chapter 11

  
  
Rick’s POV  
  
  
  
Rick woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and sunlight streaming in through the window.  
  
He also woke to Daryl lightly snoring into his face, being that they were both pressed so closely together.  
  
Rick shuffled back just a tad, Daryl’s arm pulling him back in even closer, his sleep not disturbed in the slightest.  
  
He thought back to the night before.  
  
 _Oh God._  
  
Rick had acted like some love sick fool from high school.  
  
And then…  
  
 _Daryl kissed me!_  
  
 _You didn't seem to be complaining either._  
  
Rick tried to search his mind for answers as to who he could have possibly been before the shooting, before he had gone into his coma and lost his memory.  
  
He could remember fads, trends.  He could remember movies and music.  He could even remember certain songs and the people who had sung them.  
  
He remembered teachings from various people in his life, but he couldn’t remember who those people were to him.  
  
When it came time to place himself in relation to life and all it had to offer, he fell woefully short.  
  
It was as if there was a movie playing, rich in all the details and plot points.  It included a large cast, with one of the cast members having a prominent role.  And then it was as if that particular cast member had been plucked out of the movie, his role completely gone, as if he had been erased.  
  
That was him.  
  
Erased from life.  
  
Well, at least the life before.  
  
This was his new life.  
  
Such as it was.  
  
Him and Daryl.  
  
Merle.  
  
Morgan and Duane even.  
  
Rick wondered what his life had been like before all this, why he couldn’t remember.  
  
 _Was I really that insignificant?_  
  
 _Was I one of the truly lonely masses?_  
  
Rick idly pondered the thought of him going to a dead end job everyday or a job that he truly hated.  
  
He started to speculate that maybe his life had been so trivial, so worthless, so much so that it would have been so very easy for him to forget who and what he was because he didn’t count in the grand scheme of things.  
  
Or had he been someone not worthy of even a boring, useless life?  He had been shot after all.  He had not been handcuffed to the bed but did that really mean that he was not dangerous?  
  
Or did it mean that the person assigned to watch him had decided that he wasn’t a threat and uncuffed him, especially with the turmoil the hospital had obviously undergone.  
  
Maybe he wasn’t anything.  Did he drift before this?  Did he have roots or was this just a town he had stumbled upon.  Was he homeless and aimless?  Did he end up in the hospital because he just so happened to end up in this particular town, but he had come across someone who had nefarious intentions?  
  
He gazed upon the sleeping form of Daryl.  
  
 _Do I like men?_  
  
 _Do I like women?_  
  
 _Do I like both?_  
  
He scanned the bedroom until he landed on the prom picture.  Looking at the young girl in the photo, he admitted she was very pretty, the kind of girl who was no doubt a cheerleader.  The kind who posted selfies of themselves endlessly.  She was no doubt one of the popular girls.  
  
He could imagine being interested in her when he was in high school.    
  
Now?    
  
Not a chance.  
  
So he looked at the young man.  He was good looking enough.  He seemed to fit the mold that belonged with the girl in the picture, but it stirred absolutely nothing.  
  
He looked upon Daryl once more.  
  
That was when those proverbial bells and whistles went off.  
  
He didn’t know what kind of feelings he had for him, whether they were lustful or what have you, but he just wanted to be there, with him.  
  
He wanted to bask in the warmth the man provided.  
  
He wanted to share in the comfort the man had to offer.  
  
It was a pull that was as easily felt as any magnetic draw, just as real and just as tangible.  
  
There was an orbit around the sleeping man and Rick wanted to be in it.  
  
He didn’t know what to expect next, just as long as Daryl was there.  
  
Rick noticed Daryl’s eyes opening.  “Morning,” Rick smiled.  
  
“Hey Rick,” Daryl said, his voice slightly wary.  “You feelin’ better?”  
  
“Iffen ya mean, am I still chasin’ that white rabbit down it’s hole, no.  ‘M good,” Rick grinned.    
  
Rick watched as Daryl roused himself fully awake.  
  
“I was thinkin’ ‘bout today,” Rick said.  “I got an idea.”  
  
“Hmmm,” Daryl winced.  “If ’s that moat idea, I don’t think Morgan and Merle'll be down with it,” he chuckled.  
  
 _Moat?_  
  
 _Oh yeah._  
  
“What?  Oh that!  Pfft!” Rick waved the very notion away.  
  
“So’s you ‘member talkin’ ‘bout the moat,” Daryl asked cautiously.  
  
 _Look at that!_  
  
 _He’s fishing!_  
  
“Yeah, fuck!  I may’ve been high, but I knew what I was sayin,’’ Rick nodded in embarrassment.  
  
“Okay, then what’s your idea?” Daryl asked as he tried to look away.  
  
Rick put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder to turn him around and looked intently at him.  “The sheriff’s station!  I saw it on the way to the hospital day before.”  
  
“Sheriff’s station?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Yeah.  It’s two fold really,” Rick said excitedly as he sat up straighter.  
  
“How you figure?  And that place is locked pretty tight,” Daryl said.  
  
“Yeah, that’s what makes it so _perfect!_ ” Rick said eagerly.  “Think ‘bout it.  ’S probably got a weapon’s locker.  Probably chock full of guns and ammo.  Only place that won’t be picked through cuz it was locked up!”   
  
“Tha’s what I meant though.  ’S a hard place to break _into,_ ” Daryl said again.  
  
“We can figure it out when we get there.  I got some ideas.”  Rick waved his hand in the air, “‘sides, not like we’ got anythin’ better to do today.”  
  
“You said two fold,” Daryl started.  
  
“Well, I was shot,” Rick shrugged.  “Figure maybe they got files there.  Of the victims…and maybe criminal files…”  
  
“You’re not a criminal Rick!” Daryl said rather testily.  “Told ya, ya wasn’t handcuffed to tha bed!”  
  
“The guy coulda let me go.  Cuz of everythin’ going down.  Look, I don’t feel like a criminal, okay?  But I was shot so’s they gotta have a file on me…’bout that at least, ya know.  And hey!  _Guns!_ ” Rick smiled as if he were talking about raiding the local candy store.  
  
“Hmmm, ’s a good idea,” Daryl nodded.  “Merle’ll go for it.  He’d love the idea of breakin’ inta a sheriff’s station.  Dunno ‘bout Morgan.”  
  
“Then ’s settled,” Rick smiled in triumph.  “Oh!  And on the way, we’re hittin’ that hardware store you promised me last night, get me a machete.  I really don’t like the crowbar.”  
  
“You ‘member talkin’ ‘bout that too?” Daryl asked warily.  
  
“Yeah I do Daryl.  I ‘member everything,’” Rick smiled as he tentatively put up his hand, his index finger tracing Daryl’s cheek.  He put his forehead against Daryl’s as he sighed.  “Said I knew what I was talkin’ ‘bout.”  
  
And he kissed Daryl.  
  



	12. Chapter 12

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
Daryl watched as Rick explained his complicated plan to raid the local Sheriff’s station to Merle and Morgan while Duane sat and listened.  He put before them all the details of how to go about it while shooting down any arguments they may have come up with.  He talked about having to find the alarm first, so as not to trigger it thereby alerting all the walkers in town.  He talked about ways they could break in the door.  He even started talking about some Plan B.  
  
 _Blah, blah, blah_...  
  
None of it really registered with Daryl.  He watched the faces of the other men and started to see them light up so he knew it was a solid plan.  
  
Hell, for all that mattered, maybe the proposal wasn’t that viable and they would fail in their attempt.  
  
Either way, as long as they killed whatever they came into contact with and didn’t get killed themselves in the process, it was all good.  
  
The fact of the matter was that Daryl could only think about one thing in that moment.  
  
Rick _kissed_ him.  
  
Smiling to himself, he realized he was positively _giddy_ with the memory.  
  
He was old enough now to know he _shouldn’t_ be feeling like this.  
  
 _But you do._  
  
It had been so long since anyone got his motor running, so when Rick kissed him, actually initiated something with him, Daryl couldn’t help but relive that moment one more time.  
  
 _It’s been more than one time and it hasn’t even been an hour._  
  
He would be hard pressed to remember what he had for breakfast.  
  
Closing his eyes, he could conjure the feel of Rick’s lips upon his again.  They were soft and plump and yes, they were slightly chapped.  The man had, after all, spent quite some time in that hospital bed and Rick was still dehydrated.  
  
 _Didn’t matter.  They were still perfect._  
  
He remembered the way the kiss had started sweet and soft, Rick’s breath ghosting over his face, as he leaned in to touch their lips together.  
  
Throwing all caution to the wind, Daryl had grabbed Rick’s face in his hands and deepened the kiss, his tongue invading the other man’s mouth, wanting to _consume_ Rick right where he stood.  
  
He hadn’t cared if he had been going too fast.  Too many raw thoughts had been racing through his head at the time.  
  
 _More._  
  
 _Now._  
  
 _Need._  
  
And yes, that kiss had been exactly what Daryl _needed._  
  
If someone had held a gun to his head to explain to them what the kiss was like, what it meant to him, and seriously, who would do something like that, he would have to say _nothing and everything._  
  
Nothing in that there was nothing else going through his mind at the time.  He wasn’t thinking about walkers, or groups with children in them that he had left behind, or his daddy’s belt or Merle’s bad trips or where they would even be in the next year or if they would even still be alive.  
  
Nothing.  
  
The only thing that Daryl had been thinking about was Rick.  
  
It had been just him and Rick.  
  
And the kiss was everything.  As in everything he ever wanted.  
  
It was life and hope and love and warmth and freedom and security.  
  
It was refuge, shelter from the storm.  
  
It was a promise.  
  
It was all that rolled up into one big ball of perfection.  
  
It was nothing and it was everything.  
  
After, when both men had come back to themselves, Rick touched his forehead to Daryl’s, smiled and whispered, “we’ll talk more ‘bout this later.”  
  
Daryl had nodded then quickly said, “There’ll be more kissin’ though, right?”  
  
“Fuck yeah,” Rick chuckled and pecked Daryl on the lips before telling him he wanted to start talking to the guys about his plan.  
  
Which brought him to here, now, in the kitchen.  
  
“You with us baby brother?” Merle asked as he waved his hand in front of Daryl’s face.  
  
Daryl looked all around him, the men looking back at him.  
  
Morgan’s one eyebrow was raised while Rick was practically bouncing on his feet.  
  
“Yeah, sheriff’s station, alarm, plan B, got it,” Daryl muttered.  “Oh! Hardware store!” he shouted after the fact.  
  
“Didn’t hear nothin’ ‘bout no hardware store,” Merle said in confusion.  “That Plan C?”  
  
“We should go there first cuz,” Rick shrugged, “get some thangs…and stuff.”  
  
“Can we raid one place only today, please,” Morgan pleaded.  
  
“Would be good practice for Duane,” Daryl said, “hit an easy place ‘fore we tackle somewhere’s else.”

 _Yeah and get that machete for your...whatever Rick is._  
  
Morgan and Merle looked at the two of them skeptically.  
  
“Iwannamachete,” Rick said quickly.    
  
“A whata-whata?” Morgan asked.  
  
“I want somethin' more than…this,” Rick said as he held up the crowbar.  “’S stupid.”  
  
“Why didn’t ya say somethin,'” Morgan groused.  He walked out of the kitchen and returned about five minutes later with a machete that had a red handle.  “There you go.  Feel more manly now?”  
  
Rick swished the machete around a few times, Daryl smiling at how happy it seemed to make him.  
  
“When you wanna take down a walker, aim for its head, straight on, get its brain or ya can swing to the side and take off its head,” Daryl said as he held Rick’s hand that was holding the handle, making the swishing motions for him.  
  
“If you’re done givin’ your boyfriend tennis lessons, can we go now?” Merle sighed.  
  
The group left the house, staying in tight formation as each man looked for anything coming in their direction, Duane being in the middle.  
  
Daryl admitted that the number of their group was perfect for this and that this formation would work wherever they went.  
  
When Rick spotted a walker ambling toward them, he walked right up to it and swung the machete in a graceful arc, lopping off its head, the group watching as the thing rolled around the ground.  When it stopped, it was still twitching.  Rick sighed as he realized he would have to stab it in the head.  
  
“Now that was cool,” Duane said.  
  
“Yeah, maybe I should just get it in the head first,” Rick said.  “But damn, if takin’ its head off wasn’t jus’ a little bit satisfyin.’”  
  
Rick got back into formation, Daryl coming up next to him and whispering in his ear, “that was cool…and hot.”  Daryl noticed Rick smirk off to the side, a slight blush adorning his face.  
  
They finally came upon the station.  Rick took point at one corner of the building, making sure there was no stray walker that would suddenly come out and surprise them.  
  
They checked along the wall on the outside of the building, trying to find any wires that might lead to a box that contained a speaker.  
  
Basically they were looking for a rudimentary alarm system.  
  
Hopefully the station wasn’t decked out with the latest in technology.  
  
At the same time, they looked for any door that would lead them to the inside, making note of it for later, after they handled the alarm problem.  
  
They were not about to break in any windows or doors until they made sure the alarm system was taken care of.  
  
They certainly didn’t need to bring a herd of walkers down upon them.  
  
It was at some point that they came to a chain-link fence next to a set of stairs leading down into the bottom part of the station.  
  
“Bet the door down there leads to the employee area.  That would pro’lly be our best bet,” Merle said.  
  
They all turned as one when they heard the groans of a sole walker behind the fence.  
  
Rick walked up to the fence, Daryl setting a bolt in his crossbow, ready to take the thing out if it manages to get to Rick somehow.  
  
Rick peered at the walker through the chain-link.  He was wearing a deputy sheriff uniform.  “Well gentlemen,” Rick said as he turned around with a huge grin plastered on his face.  “I give you Plan B.”  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Rick's POV

 

 

  
  
  
  
Rick wanted to do a jig right there on the spot, despite the fact that the deputy sheriff walker he was now looking at was gripping the chain link fence, its disgusting mouth trying its damnedest to snap at him.  
  
“Look, there’s the keys,” Rick said as he pointed to the man’s belt.  
  
“Could be keys to anythang though,” Morgan shrugged.  “His home, his car, whatever.”  
  
“You wouldn’t wear your keys on your belt if you were at work though, now would ya?” Rick asked.  
  
 _And you’re so sure of this because why?_  
  
 _Do you remember how you even used to carry your keys?_  
  
 _Maybe you were the kind of person who always misplaced them._  
  
Rick readied the machete to take out the walker through the fence.  
  
Or he would have, except for the fact that it wouldn’t fit through the chain link.  
  
 _The crowbar would have._  
  
“Jus’ had to have the machete,” Merle scoffed as he took out his hunting knife and dispatched the walker.  
  
Morgan took out a pair of mini bolt cutters, snipping away at the fence.  
  
Rick stepped through the new opening and bent over the body.  “ _Thank_ you Deputy Basset,” he said as he read the name tag while reaching for the keys.  
  
“He’s namin’ ‘em again,” Merle grumbled to Daryl.  
  
“Well le’s hope Deputy Bassett was trusted enough to carry the keys to the kingdom,” Rick said as he held them up.  
  
They started to descend down the staircase Merle had pointed out before, all taking note of the sign that read SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT PERSONNEL ONLY.  
  
Merle’s instincts were indeed correct.  
  
 _Yeah, well even a broken watch is right twice a day._  
  
Rick looked at all the keys and then at the lock.  He didn’t want to choose the wrong one.  Like a password on a computer, if you tried too many times, the computer would clear its hard drive.  He was worried if you tried too many different keys, it could trigger an alarm.  
  
“Kwikset,” Daryl said quickly.  “Tha’s what’s on the lock.  Look for the Kwikset key.”  
  
Rick nodded and looked at the ring.  
  
There were _three_ Kwikset keys.  
  
“Shiniest one,” Morgan said.  “Lock looks new.”  
  
Rick found the shiniest one and inserted it in the lock, gave a small prayer to whoever was listening and turned the key.  
  
The key was indeed the correct one as it turned all the way counter-clockwise.  
  
Before he let the group go rushing in, he stopped to listen.  
  
Not only was he listening for anyone, or more correctly, _anything,_ but for the alarm.  Just because they had the key didn’t mean the alarm wouldn’t go off.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Rick motioned everyone in, while holding the flashlight up to illuminate everything.   
  
They were good.  
  
Daryl and Merle took point and checked around any corners.  
  
“I don’t hear nothin,’” Daryl whispered.  
  
“Me neither,” Merle said.  
  
They made their way down the hallway they first entered where there was a coffee station and an employee message station.  
  
Merle found a door to his left, went in and came back out a few minutes later.  
  
“”S clear.  Showers, employee area,” Merle shrugged.  
  
Next, they went through the main part of the station, the small rooms scattered about, any and all bathrooms and even the holding cell.  
  
They stayed in tight formation and cleared each section.  
  
Morgan came upon a section with a small hallway and Daryl took point.  
  
It was the firing range and once again, Merle ran in and cleared the area.  
  
“They must’ve locked this area down pretty tight once everythin’ went down, nothin’s in here,” Merle said.  “Oh and I found the candy shop,” Merle said with a big smile on his face.  
  
Merle led them down past the firing range to a caged area.  
  
Now being that it was the undead apocalypse and all, they had found what could possibly be considered the equivalent to the Holy Grail.  
  
The armory weapon’s locker.  
  
It wasn’t hard to find the key to open the lock to the cage.  
  
Rick and Daryl looked around the shelves.  “Huh.  You reckon a place like this’d be more stocked up.”  
  
“Yeah, looks like a lots gone missin,’” Rick said.  
  
 _Seems like it should be more full._  
  
“Still,” Rick said with a smile.  
  
“‘Nuff for us, tha’s for sure,” Merle said, his eyes lighting up like a child’s on Christmas morning.  
  
“Daddy?  Can I learn to shoot?  I’m old enough,” Duane asked of Morgan.  
  
“Hell yes, you’re gonna learn.  But we gotta do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon,” Morgan replied.  
  
“That’s right.  It’s not a toy.  You pull the trigger, you have to mean it.  Always remember that, Duane,” Rick said, making sure the young man heard him.  
  
“Yes sir,” Duane replied.  
  
 _And what makes you the expert?_  
  
There was a wide assortment of ammunition stacked on the shelves.  Many different types of rifles were available as well as a wide array of pistols.  
  
A few gun belts were hanging, Rick eyeing one in particular.  
  
This one seemed to have a pistol still in its holster.  
  
A shiny six-inch barreled Colt Python .357.  
  
 _Oh yeah, that’s the ticket._

Rick fastened the belt around his hips, plucking the gun out of its holster.

It just felt so _right._  
  
“Hey!  Look at me!” Merle exclaimed.  Everyone turned to look at Merle, who had managed to find a gun belt of his own and a sheriff’s hat.  “I’m the sheriff.  Howdy!  Howdy!  Howdy!” he said as he had a hand on each gun at his hip, tilting his hat as a cowboy would.  
  
“Didja just quote Toy Story?” Morgan asked, chuckling.  
  
“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Merle grumbled embarrassingly as he put the hat back on the shelf.  “How could I?  Never saw the damn movie.”  
  
“Yeah, ya never saw it,” Daryl scoffed.  “Ya _never_ saw it like fifty times.”  
  
Rick took a few guns off the shelf and cocked them, checking to see if they were loaded.  
  
He quirked an eyebrow at Daryl when he heard him humming the James Bond theme song while smirking back at him.  
  
“Were you jus’ _hummin’_ baby brother?” Merle asked incredulously.  
  
“Inside joke between me and Rick,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“Hey now!  No inside jokes,” Merle grumbled.  “That ain’t fair.”  
  
“Maybe when we get ta know each other better, we can have an inside joke too,” Rick said as he placed his hand on Merle’s back.  
  
Merle nodded then chuckled as he slapped Rick on the back, “Jus’ Georgia.”  
  
“I don’t get it,” Morgan said.  
  
“That’s cuz it’s _our_ inside joke,” Merle smiled.  
  
 _Well he’s trying._  
  
Daryl and Rick gave each other another look before quietly chuckling to themselves.  
  
“Hey Daryl!  ‘Member that guy we knew?” Merle called out, while checking a rifle with a scope.  
  
Daryl sighed, “for fuck’s sake Merle!  Don’t keep doing this.  What guy?”  
  
“That _guy,_ the one who worked for the water works department,” Merle said.  
  
“Dave?” Daryl replied.  
  
“Yeah him.  ‘Member when the gas lines went down, cuz of the flooding that one year and he told us to go ta work with him, cuz they had their own power,” Merle said.  
  
“They didn’t have their own power.  They had propane, so’s we could stay warm, cook and use the hot water,” Daryl grumbled.  
  
Rick stopped short.

 _Wait a sec..._  
  
“You saw the propane tank on the way in here too?” Rick asked Merle.  
  
“Didn’t see that, jus’ ‘member Dave sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout all public work’s places had their own power grid or somethin,’” Merle shrugged.  
  
“Well, I saw the propane tank,” Daryl said as he stopped packing away guns in a duffel bag.  
  
“I wonder,” Rick said as he ran to the area where they had first come in, where the showers were, Daryl following close behind, the rest bringing up the rear.  
  
Rick turned on one of the showers.  They could hear the tell-tale sound of water running through pipes that hadn’t had water running through them for quite some time.  The water came out while Rick held his hand under the spray patiently.  
  
 _Cold, cold, cold, slightly less cold, warm, and oh yeah!_  
  
“Bingo!” Rick said looking entirely too pleased.  
  
“You kiddin’ me?  The gas lines been down!” Morgan said in awe.  
  
“Station’s obviously on it’s own propane system.  Saw the tank on the way in here, out when we were circlin' the building.  There ain’t no electricity but there’s gas, propane.  We can shower, at least," Rick said.  “Don’t know how much propane is left in that tank, but iffen this’s hot, there’s _plenty_ for a hot shower for _all_ of us...for now.”  
  
“We can check the gauge when we go back out there,” Daryl said.  
  
“Guns, hot shower, it’s like _fuckin’ Christmas,_ baby brother!” Merle said as he grinned from ear to ear.  
  
“Fuck yeah!” Duane exclaimed.  
  
“What the hell was that?” Morgan groused.  
  
“Sorry daddy,” Duane said contritely.  
  
Rick looked over at Daryl, “you go ahead.  I’ll catch up later.  I wanna check the files and…stuff.  Wanna do what I came here to do.”  
  
 _Maybe find out who the fuck I am._  
  
 _Shooting victim who got caught in the line of fire?_  
  
 _Or criminal who got taken down in accordance of the law?_  
  
 _Or what?_  
  
 _You don't exactly have a lot of choices._  
  
“I can take my damn shower after.  I’ll go with you, cover ya,” Daryl said.   
  
 _I hoped you would say that._  
  
Rick and Daryl wistfully looked at the men as they enjoyed their hot showers.  “Don’t use up all the damn hot water!” Daryl snarled.  “You sure you wanna look ‘round first?  Maybe shower now, look ‘round later?”  
  
“Can’t,” Rick said.  “I wanna know now.  ‘Sides,” Rick said as he looked back impishly at Daryl, “maybe I wanted us to have the showers to ourselves.  Not have Merle lookin’ over our backs.”  
  
“You’re right.  Files first.  Shower later,” Daryl said decisively.  
  
And with that, both men went to locate the file room.  
  
  
  
  
  
Nobody’s POV  
  
  
Across from the coffee station sat the employee message center.  Each employee had their own box.  Margaret Pearson, the station’s main administrator, would make sure and put any relevant communication into those boxes every single day.  She couldn’t bring herself to stop filling in the box titled RICK GRIMES.  It would have seemed so final.  So she kept putting all communications in there, the box completely stuffed to the brim, thereby hiding the label that indicated his name.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, that conversation amongst Duane, Morgan and Rick about Duane learning how to shoot was taken directly from the show. Since it happened that way on the show, it would have happened that way here. :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay here but real life, you know? Daughter moving out, kids switching out rooms, work, blah, blah, blah...
> 
> So, once again, this seemed to coincide with what's going on in the current season, but this IS where we left off last chapter.
> 
> The shower!
> 
> And Rick, as he did in Season 1 in the shower, will shave. :)
> 
> So warnings for some shower!smut ahead.
> 
> Like you need a warning for that...

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV

 

  
  
Daryl watched Rick walk into the shower room, his head hung low, the fruits of their labor bearing nothing.   
  
Because that was what they found.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Nothing as in they had run through all the files in the shooting victim category and then in the perpetrator category, all the while looking for a file labeled GRIMES, RICK.  
  
They had searched the main part of the station, trying to locate any other files that might pertain to Rick.  
  
Still nothing.  
  
At one point, Rick had thought about looking _within_ each file, just to see if he could locate his name somewhere.  
  
After opening one of the thick files, perusing through the images of gore and page after page of information that really meant nothing to him, Rick closed the file folder.  
  
He didn’t seem to have it in him to do the research.  
  
 _And you certainly weren’t volunteering for the job either._  
  
Daryl would have felt guilty about the fact that he didn’t want to rush into finding out about Rick’s past, especially now that he had become so close to the man, mounds of paperwork not withstanding, but even Rick himself had admitted it would have been like looking for that proverbial needle in a haystack.    
  
One thing Daryl had learned however, was where that asshole, Shane Walsh from their former group, had been employed as a deputy sheriff.  For when they were stomping around the station, Daryl had felt the crunching under his feet of glass only to look down and see several framed photos on the ground.  One of the cracked frames was a picture of Walsh himself.  As Daryl bent down to peer closer, he had to kick a few of the other framed photos out of the way, all of which had been face down.  
  
 _Oh yeah, that was the prick._  
  
Daryl had only given a moment’s thought to wonder what Shane would have made of Rick, if he knew of the man.  After all, wouldn’t he, as the local law enforcement, know about a shooting victim?  
  
This made Daryl’s stomach lurch just slightly when he realized many of Rick’s questions could have been answered by the man who Merle had beaten down in a skirmish, which his brother had started of course.  
  
But that group was probably long gone by now, already on their way to Fort Benning, as Shane had been so fond of telling them that _that_ was where they should have been headed all along.   
  
Then again, the man was so into himself, he doubted he would have been of any use as to information regarding Rick.  
  
So here they were now, alone in the shower room, Merle and Morgan having decided it would be an opportune time to show Duane how to shoot using the convenient range set up for such instruction.  It wouldn’t arouse the attention of any walkers as the range was quite soundproof, making it the perfect place to learn.  
  
Daryl locked the shower room door behind him as he addressed Rick, who sat on the bench, staring off into space.  
  
“Rick?  You okay?” Daryl asked as he sat down next to the man.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick nodded absently then turned to face Daryl suddenly.  “Maybe I’m from some other town, and the hospital was the only one equipped to handle my, you know, _situation_ …you know what…I don’t care,” Rick scoffed, his head shaking from side to side.  “I jus’ don’t give a two bit _fuck_ right now.  A warm shower and a razor are waitin’ for us over there.”  
  
Rick regarded Daryl intently for a moment then grinned.  “Well, the razor’s waitin’ for _me_ anyway, I reckon.”  
  
Daryl subconsciously stroked his chin, feeling a few straggling hairs, “I could go for a bit of a shave.”  
  
As Rick started to take his clothes off, Daryl swiftly averted his body, giving the other man privacy.    
  
_Don’t look.  Don’t look.  Don’t look._  
  
“Perfect,” Rick sighed, as Daryl turned back around and looked fixedly at the other man as he started the shower, basking in the warmth of the spray, a look of pure bliss on his face.  
  
 _Told you._

 _Shouldn’t have looked._  
  
Daryl peered down at his steadily growing cock.  He shed his clothes rather hastily and headed for the other stall.  
  
“Thought maybe, we could do each other’s backs,” Rick shrugged.  
  
Daryl regarded Rick’s innocent looking face as he made the request.  
  
 _Innocent like hell!_  
  
Daryl really liked the idea of sharing a shower with Rick, especially now that he knew the other man still _wanted_ to, looked forward to it even, despite the disappointment of having found nothing in the file room.  
  
His cock seemed to like the idea too.  
  
He willed his erection down but sad to say, no one ever accused a Dixon of having a particularly strong will.  
  
And then, as if life decided it would be fun to fuck with him some more, Rick turned around in the shower, facing the tile wall, his backside on display for Daryl.  
  
Water was cascading down that very perfect back, curving over Rick’s very perfect ass cheeks.  
  
He tried to think about other things.  Things that had nothing to do with Rick’s backside.  
  
Roadkill, rotting in the sun.  
  
Merle.  
  
Merle eating roadkill that had been rotting in the sun.  
  
Sadly, it didn’t help.  
  
Rick glanced back at Daryl and held up a bottle of shampoo, “you do my hair first, then I’ll do yours.  Deal?”  
  
“Deal,” Daryl said as he poured a small amount of shampoo into his hand and started lathering Rick’s hair with it, tilting his head back in the process.  
  
Daryl marveled at how soft the other man’s curls felt.  He ran his fingers through the strands, scratching at Rick’s scalp while doing so.  Rick had taken a bar of soap and lathered his face, running the razor over his stubble.  
  
“‘M done.  You can rinse off now,” Daryl said as Rick leaned forward and ran his head under the spray of warm water.  
  
When Rick turned around, his face was completely free of hair.  
  
“Your turn,” Rick smiled.  
  
Daryl ogled Rick.  
  
 _Jesus!  He looks ten years younger!_  
  
Daryl reached out and ran his fingers along Rick’s jawline, marveling at how baby smooth his face was.  
  
Next run they made, he was getting Rick a life time supply of razors.  
  
“Did I miss a spot?” Rick asked guardedly.  
  
“Naw, just…you’re so smooth…an’ soft,” and before Daryl could say another thing, he leaned forward and kissed Rick solidly on the lips.  
  
There was no stubble, no hair above or below the lips, to get in the way this time.  
  
Just skin.  
  
Just soft, clean skin.  
  
He lavished a slow kiss on Rick’s lips, licking the upper lip, then the bottom before he pushed his tongue fully into his mouth.  Daryl stroked his tongue along side Rick’s.  Getting a bit carried away, he pushed Rick up against the shower wall, hearing an expelled _“oomph!”_ coming from the other man’s mouth.  
  
“Sorry,” Daryl said shamefaced as he broke away.  
  
 _Fuck his wound!_  
  
“’S okay.  ‘M okay,” Rick said, his eyes half lidded as he dove in for another kiss with Daryl.  
  
This time Rick grabbed the sides of Daryl’s face and brought them together for a more heated kiss, Rick taking the lead as he explored his mouth with his eager tongue.  
  
As their bodies became further entwined and warm water continued to cascade down their forms, Daryl started to rub his erection against Rick’s, the other man having started to go hard as well.  It started innocently enough, but changed as Daryl quickly became more bold in his ministrations.  
  
“This okay?” Daryl asked as he swallowed, panting as he slowly sped up.  
  
 _God!  Let it be okay..._  
  
“Yeah,” Rick moaned as he too created friction by joining in the impromptu frottage.  
  
His forehead touched Rick’s, as he licked his lips.  
  
Daryl didn’t want it to be over so quickly so he slowed down and kept his motions slower, getting into a more languorous, yet steady, rhythm, rocking into Rick.  
  
“That feels so…oh… _oh,_ ” Rick moaned as he gasped sharply before his whole body shivered.  
  
“Jesus!   ‘M sorry,” Rick said hurriedly.    
  
Daryl looked down.  
  
Rick had cum alright.  Daryl noticed the remnants of his spunk in his groin, the shower trying its damnedest to wipe the evidence away.  
  
“Shit!  Why you sorry for!?” Daryl cried out incredulously as he brought the other man’s face in for an extremely sloppy kiss.  
  
Daryl himself wasn’t too far off from having an orgasm as well.  
  
This had been the first lime in so, so long…  
  
 _If at all…_  
  
That he had felt such a closeness to someone else.  The need for release was so strong that he probably wouldn’t have needed much prompting so Daryl started to stroke his cock but before he could get any further, Rick had suddenly gone down on his knees, leaned against him and gazed up at Daryl imploringly.  
  
“I don’t wanna know who I was anymore Daryl,” Rick said as he pleaded with the man, his eyes saying just as much.  “Can’t I jus’ be who I am now, with you?”  
  
Daryl was speechless.  
  
 _Yeah, and its not like you’re a real talker, now are you?  But this…_  
  
Daryl knew what this was.  
  
An offering.  
  
Rick was giving himself to him.  
  
 _Of course he is._  
  
 _He_ is _yours you know._  
  
 _It’s what you keep saying, isn’t it?_  
  
 _Mine_.  
  
He watched as Rick caressed his smooth cheek along Daryl’s cock, his eyes closed, so much being said without anything needing to be said at all, the words 'I'm yours' all but spoken.  
  
And he was.  
  
He had to well and truly will himself to stop from shooting right then and there.  
  
His whole body was thrumming, alive with want and need and just releasing itself.  
  
The thought of spending himself all over Rick’s face would be humiliating and while he was thinking about not having an orgasm, _he did just that._  
  
He came all over Rick’s face.  
  
Rick looked up at him, Daryl’s cum splashed across his cheek, his chin.  
  
It was filthy, dirty.  It was so wrong.    
  
And so sexy and so very, very hot.  
  
And sweet and tender because Rick was looking up at Daryl as if he were the only person who mattered in the whole, wide world to him.  
  
 _Well, you very well could be._  
  
It should have been humiliating and shameful.  
  
But it wasn’t.  
  
It was _perfect._  
  
Daryl slid down the shower to be face to face with his lover, and yes, Rick was now his lover.  He switched off between kissing him desperately and while licking his own release off Rick’s face, both men holding onto each other as they consumed one another.  
  
Daryl ran his tongue along one shoulder, ending at his lover’s neck and kissed it tenderly as Rick was nuzzling his face with that damn smooth cheek.  
  
“I got ya, Rick.  I got ya,” Daryl soothed.  
  
For no matter what Rick said, about not knowing his past and wanting to get on with his future, and Rick, being the strong individual he was, would no doubt do, Daryl knew anxiety and panic when he saw it, the uncertainty of moving on.  
  
This had been more about comfort, about reassurance, than it had been about sexual release.  
  
 _Although it did feel really fucking good._  
  
They kneeled there, under the spray of the water, Rick grabbing hold of Daryl tightly, rocking back and forth into him as Daryl provided the sanctuary his lover so desperately needed.  
  
He had Rick.  
  
He always would.  
  
Because Rick was his.  
  
They stayed there, on the shower floor, well past the point when the water had become cold.  
  
  
  
  
Nobody’s POV  
  
  
And while the lover’s stayed in their cocoon, forgetting about the rest of the world as it now was, broken frames continued to adorn the floor of the main station.  One of them being the photo of Shane Walsh, or as Daryl was inclined to call him, the prick.  Of course, had he not kicked the other photos away, and actually had flipped them over, he would have seen the photo of Rick Grimes, looking proudly into the camera, dressed in his freshly pressed uniform shirt, his years of service displayed on a gold-plated label below the picture.  
  
But Daryl hadn’t flipped any of the pictures over, being that _that_ was not something he would have thought to do.  
  
And so, the framed photo continued to lay on the floor, face down, as it would continue to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go.
> 
> Our first bit of smut in this thing.
> 
> Give me a shout out if you liked, or didn't or whatever.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a tooth extracted last week. Fuck root canals and shit. I'm going for the implant. Anywho, yeah, percoset is your friend.
> 
> Now I'm back.

  
  
  
  
Rick’s POV

 

  
  
  
Rick stared at the ceiling of the teen’s bedroom.  
  
He had given up any pretense of sleep a while ago.  
  
He rolled over to take in the visage of his sleeping companion.  Daryl looked so very peaceful in his slumber that he hoped he would not wake him with his loud thoughts.  
  
For Rick thoughts were so loud, so heavy and intense in their load on his very soul, that he thought surely everyone else in the house could hear them.  
  
The main problem was that he couldn’t seem to stay on one thought for too long before jumping to the next, ending with him being tied completely in knots and awake here, now, on the bed when he should be sleeping as peacefully as Daryl next to him.  
  
His initial worry was always that of why he couldn’t seem to find anything out about himself.  
  
Which lead to the next thought, that being was he even really trying hard enough.  Or maybe that he was trying too hard and that the answers would present themselves if he would just stop running around aimlessly.  
  
This of course led him to trying to clear his mind…  
  
 _And do you really want to clear it any more than it already is?_  
  
And try to bring up any memories, or even one memory, of sometime, of something, _anything,_ before he had been shot.  
  
He would envision something like a slice of pizza.  He would try to see the images around him while eating the piece of pizza.  A house.  A room.  Anything.  He would then try to see if he could make out the people in his memory.  
  
And when he did, they were just a nameless, faceless mass of bodies.  The faces of the walkers that he had killed were more clear to him than any of the people in his memories.  
  
Nothing seemed to click.  
  
Rick had hoped to find out something about himself at the sheriff’s station.  There should have been something about him in a file.  But then his mind would start to wonder if maybe he had been in that hospital bed so long, they had closed out his file and filed it away somewhere, where all closed files go to die.

The Dead Files.  
  
Or maybe the King County Sheriff’s Department had decided that he was as good as dead.  They had him practically one foot in the ground anyway, so they decided he _was_ the Dead File.  
  
And just wasn’t that an ironic turn of events if there ever was one.  
  
They left him for dead.  
  
And here he was, alive as ever, while they no doubt...  
  
 _Well Leon Bassett certainly was at least_  
  
Could be labeled as a Dead File themselves.  
  
And then his thoughts brought him to earlier, the epiphany he had before the shower, that maybe he had just been transported to that hospital, from somewhere else.  
  
There were just too many possibilities, and he was, as he had told Daryl himself earlier that day, a needle in a haystack.  
  
And of course, those thoughts just brought him back to Daryl, as all things usually brought him back to Daryl.  
  
What the hell was that in the shower?  
  
One minute he was looking forward to some warm water and soap time and then wham!  
  
He was shooting like a schoolboy all over his…  
  
 _Well, what should you call Daryl?_  
  
And how did that all end?  
  
Apparently Rick had not cornered the market on premature ejaculations and over-excited libidos because Daryl had also spent himself, all over his face.  
  
Rick should have been humiliated, should have felt shame, but he couldn’t.  
  
He felt relief.  
  
Relief at the fact that he could still feel something, that he could make someone else feel something because the fact of the matter was that Rick just felt so, very, very...  
  
Numb.  
  
There had been a point when he had been perusing the files that he couldn’t see straight anymore.  He couldn’t make the words out on the page.  He knew a lost cause when he saw one.  
  
So when he entered that shower, and Daryl had touched him the way he had, so tenderly, so caring, he lost it.  
  
It was so good to feel again.  
  
So good to touch and know someone was there, touching him back, wanting to touch _him._  
  
And then he had come, so quickly, just by the slightest friction.  
  
Rick had been so worried he had blown it, to put it mildly.  
  
He had been so scared and so confused when he had first stepped into that tile enclosure, but it was nothing compared to what he felt if he would lose Daryl as well.  
  
He slid down that tiled wall, and lay himself prostrate at Daryl’s feet, stripping himself of all pretense.  
  
He wanted to show him this was him.  
  
Take it or leave it.  
  
He offered himself to Daryl, heart and soul.  
  
So, yes, Daryl had spent himself on him.  
  
And Rick had never felt relief so clearly in all his life.  
  
 _Well, any of it that you can remember of it that is._  
  
Daryl was now his anchor.  
  
And Rick desperately needed to keep himself tethered to the man.  
  
 _And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve kind of fallen for the guy._  
  
When he was cold, Daryl was warm.  
  
When all Rick felt was numbness down to his extremities, Daryl was there to make him feel again.  
  
No matter how shaky he felt, how unsure, Daryl was there, and he knew everything would be alright.  
  
“Hey Rick, you’re thinkin’ too loud again,” Daryl muttered.  
  
“‘M sorry.  Didn’t wanna wake you up,” Rick winced.  
  
“’S okay. ‘M used to gettin’ sleep like this.  An hour here, an hour there,” Daryl said as he sat up in the bed, stretching his arms out.  
  
“Been on the road that long, huh?” Rick asked, his brow furrowing.  
  
“Naw, cuz of my family,” Daryl said and paused.  “Ya don’t need to know ‘bout any of that,” he said as he waved his hand away.  
  
“Is it the scars, on your back?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah, my daddy.  Look Rick.  You don’t have to worry ‘bout nothing.  ‘M here.  Okay?” Daryl said, as he scooted closer and shrugged his shoulder up against Rick’s.  
  
“I know,” Rick smiled.  “What was your family like?”  
  
“Why you wanna know?” Daryl frowned.  
  
“Well, alright.  Wanna hear ‘bout my family?” Rick asked, a devious grin on his face.  
  
Daryl gave Rick a look of disbelief.  
  
“So, there’s Daryl,” Rick started off, counting off on one finger.  “Quiet but kinda scary.  Nice guy.  Sweet, good kisser,” he smiled.  “He’s selfless and caring.  You can tell he’s got a temper on him, but he knows how to reign it in.   Deadly accurate with that fuckin’ crossbow of his.  And then there’s Merle,” Rick said as he ticked off another finger.  “Pain in the ass.  But he might come in handy.  He don’t want people to know he maybe has a heart buried in there somewhere.  There’s Morgan,” Rick said as he smiled and laughed.  “There was this one time, he hit me with a shovel.  Right upside my head.  Let me tell you.”  
  
Daryl snickered as he regarded Rick.  
  
“Then there’s Duane, Morgan’s boy.  He gets pretty excited, like all boys do, I suppose.  He’ll do right by his daddy one day though, just like his daddy is doin’ by him now.”  
  
Daryl sighed.  “Grew up in northern Georgia.  Daddy and momma were not really…there for us,” he scoffed.  “They was always three sheets to the wind.  Momma liked to chain smoke as well.  Our house went up in a fire, her along with it when I was little.  Merle was twelve and in juvie.  Dad got worse after, if it were possible.  Merle was in and outta juvie.  He never wanted to be home cuz daddy was always beatin’ on him.”  
  
Rick leaned over and grabbed onto Daryl’s hand, then laced their fingers together.  Daryl squeezed their fingers a few times.  “‘M sorry, Daryl, you don’t haveta continue.”  
  
“Naw, ’s okay.  You should know,” Daryl sighed.  “What Merle didn’t know was he was beatin’ on me when he weren’t there.  Merle found out just a little while ago.  He always thought daddy left me alone.  Dunno if I believe that,” Daryl said as he contemplated what he had just admitted.  “Shit!  Maybe it’s better you don’t know nothin’ ‘bout your past.”  
  
“Never married?  I mean, I know you like men, obviously,” Rick sputtered.  
  
Daryl grinned as he looked at Rick.  “Like both.  Just, no one ever interested me enough…well, Merle always said I was queer as a three dollar bill.  Maybe he’s right.  I mean, there were a few girls in school, but there was this boy I liked better…”  
  
“Yeah?” Rick smirked.  
  
“Sweet kid.  We made out under the bleachers when we cut class.  The time though,” Daryl shook his head, “people weren’t okay with it like they are now.”  
  
Rick could imagine a young Daryl making out with some high school boy under the bleachers, breaking off long enough to check and see if anyone was watching them.  
  
 _The way you want to kiss him right now makes you wonder if you hid under the bleachers in high school, sneaking around with boys so you could make out in between gym and Trig._  
  
“When Merle got outta prison, we just drifted together, never had a place to call home really.  I just followed Merle,” Daryl said, the unmistakable sound of regret in his voice.  
  
“Like now?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah, only Merle’s different now.  The camp we were with?” Daryl sighed.  “We were gonna rob it and leave.  Shane and Merle got inta a fight though.  Merle was high and doing stupid shit.”  
  
Daryl looked up at Rick, gauging how he felt about his confession.  
  
 _What, like you weren’t already thinking Merle was capable of something like that anyway?_  
  
Daryl grimaced before continuing.  “I said that was our plan, to rob ‘em.  But I talked Merle outta it.  That’s why he was so high.  He was pissed at me.  Ended up gettin’ kicked outta the group anyway,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
 _Thank God for small miracles._  
  
Rick knew without a shadow of a doubt that the relief he felt wasn't for the group that he had never met, but for himself, for Merle inadvertently leading Daryl to him.

“And now?” Rick asked.  “Does he plan on taking you away in the middle of the night or somethin?’”  
  
 _Breathe.  Just breathe._  
  
“Don’t worry.  Merle’s not plannin’ anything now.  He don’t wanna leave.  Hell, he just wanted to do that cuz he didn’t like the group.  I think he likes Morgan and Duane…and you.”  
  
 _And breathe out._  
  
“Look Rick, we can find some clue as to who,” Daryl started.  
  
“No!  No.  I meant what I said before,” Rick stated, his head tilted as he looked directly at Daryl.  “We should, _I should_ , move on now.  It don’t matter who I was.  Just who I am now.”  
  
Daryl snickered.  
  
“What?” Rick smiled.  
  
“I know you meant what you just said.  Your resolve is pretty firm right now,” Daryl said.  
  
“Are you reading me Daryl Dixon?” Rick scoffed.  
  
“You do that head tilt thing.  Where you dip your head and look right at someone.  You...look,” Daryl started as he tipped his head to the side and stared directly at Rick.  Then he straightened his head back up.  “I call it the ‘resolve Rick face.’”  
  
“It has a name?!” Rick sputtered.  
  
“You think you’re the only one that gets to name stuff?” Daryl grinned.  
  
Rick tilted his head to regard Daryl and then brought his head upright quickly.  “Oh shit!  I just did it again,” Rick laughed.  
  
Daryl laughed as well, “you can’t stop the head tilt man, its like the tide flowin' or some shit.”  
  
“Yeah, well you know, you can’t always read me,” Rick said.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said warily.  
  
“Bet you didn’t know I was gonna do this!” Rick said as he jumped on Daryl and tackled him to the bed, the other man quickly rolling back around with Rick.  
  
Both men grappled with each other, trying to get the upper hand, before Daryl managed to get on top of Rick and straddle his thighs, holding Rick’s wrists up around his head as he peered down at him.  “I win,” Daryl smiled in triumph.  Daryl looked down thoughtfully at Rick.  “So, I told you my story.  Let me tell you yours.  So you were born in one of those nice small towns in Georgia.  The kind you might see in movies.  With the trees that line the street and shade the whole road so when you were little, you could ride your bike with your friends back and forth in the middle of July and still stay cool.”  
  
“Sounds nice,” Rick smiled.  
  
“Your momma was the kind of woman who made meatloaf on Mondays, just the way your daddy liked and when your daddy came home every night, he asked you how your day at school was.  He gave you that look most daddies give ya when you done somethin’ bad, then he laughs and says not to do it again,” Daryl said.  
  
“I always liked that ‘bout daddy,” Rick smiled.  
  
“You had a dog.  You named her Old Yeller, cuz you wanted your dog to have a happier ending than the one in the movie,” Daryl smirked.  
  
“I really miss that dog,” Rick pouted.  
  
“You were pretty well liked in high school.  That was when you got your first car. It was your daddy’s Chevelle.  Bright orange,” Daryl smiled at the thought.  
  
“Oh, well, I do have excellent taste,” Rick said.  
  
“They sent you off to college.  Now this were your first time away from home for that long, so you did some crazy shit.  Then you graduated.”  
  
“After all the crazy shit I did?!” Rick sputtered.  “Man, they were just giving away those degrees.”  
  
“Sssh, I’m tellin’ the story,” Daryl chided.  “So you got this job as a store manager.  Accountin’ on how good you are with people and how responsible you can be.”  
  
“Obviously they didn’t look too closely at my college days,” Rick continued.  
  
“Obviously,” Daryl said.  “You were well liked in town.  Everyone came to you for advice.  They looked to you.  Your daddy would come up on the weekends and you’d go fishin.’  You had friends.  Your life looked like one of those damn beer commercials from the eighties.”  
  
“And then I was shot,” Rick ended with a small smile.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said as he leaned down and rained kisses over Rick’s face.  “But it was because you were at this little market, two towns over, and two men came in with shotguns.  They were ‘bout to shoot the place up, not caring ‘bout little Mrs. Townsend standing there, so you put yourself in front o’ her and then they shot you.  You went down a hero.  They had to move you here, on accountin’ the hospital weren’t equipped for what happened to you.”  
  
“Wow!” Rick said in awe.  “I sound like a great guy.”  
  
“People brought you flowers and cards and balloons,” Daryl said wistfully.  “And then the change happened but it’s okay,” Daryl said as he looked up suddenly.  “They was all evacuated somewhere, somewhere safe.”  
  
“I hope they’re okay,” Rick said as he looked off in the distance.  
  
Daryl moved off Rick and lay by his side, their legs rubbing against each other and their hands entwined.  
  
“It’ll be okay Rick, really it will,” Daryl said intently as he looked longingly at Rick.  He brought his hand up and stroked the side of Rick’s face.  “I keep tellin’ you.  And I’ll always keep tellin’ you ’ti you get it.  It’ll be okay.”

 _You know, maybe it will be._  
  
This time, when Rick closed his eyes to rest, he fell asleep, not waking until the morning rays shone through the curtain.  
  
His loud thoughts had quieted down quite considerably.

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
If Daryl Dixon were the type of man to believe in Murphy’s Law, or in any kind of superstition that said for every good thing that happened in your life, something bad would have to happen, something about balancing the scales or some such shit, then he would be worried stiff right about now.  
  
After all, Rick coming into life his life was a pretty amazing thing.  
  
To put it mildly.  
  
Beautiful men who didn’t look at you as if you were yesterday’s garbage and who might possibly be bent the same way as you, didn’t just fall out of the sky.  
  
But Rick did, wearing nothing but a hospital gown.  
  
Rick who saw good in Daryl, who put his utter trust in him.  
  
God, he couldn’t stop thinking of the other day in the showers.  How he had come undone by Rick’s offering.   
  
And last night, the way he had spun that tale for Rick about his possible past.  Rick had lit up when Daryl was making up the story.  It was the life Daryl had always wanted for himself.  To grow up in a home where people loved him, to live in a town where people looked to him.  
  
It felt so right to give that to Rick.    
  
Because Rick had given that to _him._   He made Daryl feel like he was someone worth caring about.  Someone worth trusting in and turning to.  
  
Someone, Daryl ventured, worth _loving._  
  
So of course, logic would dictate that right about now, something God awful was about to happen.  
  
Like maybe the town could be over run by the undead all of a sudden or maybe some roving band of men with more guns and more people could come running through and decide they would like to take the town for themselves.  
  
Which brought up another problem.    
  
Other groups.  
  
Sure, it would be great to find other people like themselves, who just want to survive and have a warm place to sleep, food to eat and to not have to worry about being eaten themselves.  
  
Good people.  People like the group Daryl and Merle had been with.  
  
Some of them may have been annoying, but for the most part, they were good people.  
  
They knew they had quite the arsenal on them, having raided the sheriff’s armory.  
  
 _Yeah, but you actually need the people to man those guns, now don’t you?_  
  
As for the undead?  
  
They seemed to only be a problem at night, when they tended to gather together in a mindless herd.  Why they did that, Daryl had no clue.  During the day, they tended to scatter, making it easier for the four of them, five if you counted Duane, to kill off.  
  
But what if they suddenly gathered altogether, the whole town at once or what if more of the undead came from somewhere else, a rather large herd that they could _not_ handle.  
  
These two possibilities could happen, and if Daryl were the type to be superstitious or a believer in the way the universe tended to balance itself out, then he would be very concerned about this happening.  
  
And the bitch of it was, that he _was_ that type of person.  
  
Maybe, and this was a big maybe, but the theory of it could be sound, was the fact that the undead apocalypse, the dead rising, was the _thing itself_ that was bad.  
  
The thing that was so, so terrible, that something good was bound to come out of it.  
  
Namely, that Daryl Dixon would finally get someone all to himself, someone who wouldn’t judge him on his past, on his family, on just the fact that he was who he was.  Someone who was a good person themselves, who he would want to be with.  
  
 _Yeah, you keep telling yourself that._  
  
 _But in the mean time, you should probably have an alternative plan._  
  
Daryl looked at the group gathered in the kitchen.    
  
They had just finished eating breakfast, when Rick addressed the room.  
  
“I was thinking,” Rick said.  “‘Bout what the next step should be.  Cuz we can’t just sit here and think everything’s gonna be status quo.”  
  
 _Sounds like your boy has the same theory about the universe too._  
  
“If we just stay here,” Morgan shrugged, “we should be okay.”  
  
Daryl watched as the man looked back at Rick rather anxiously.  
  
“Yeah, for now,” Rick said, “but we gotta think ‘bout the long run.”  
  
“Are you sayin’ you wanna leave?” Morgan asked.  
  
There was no mistaking it now, Morgan was extremely anxious.  
  
The man did not want to leave this town.  
  
“No!  That’s not what I meant,” Rick said.  “But there’s all these possibilities.  Like other groups and…”  
  
“You wanna find one of ‘em and what, join ‘em?!” Merle scoffed.  “Believe me, you don’t wanna do that.”  
  
“I don’t wanna either,” Rick said.  “But maybe…well, you guys were with one.  Where was it headed Daryl?”  
  
“They was headed to Fort Benning,” Daryl said.    
  
“See what I mean?” Rick said.  “Maybe we gotta head out and connect with others.  And what about that other place.  Daune mentioned it ‘fore.”  
  
“The CDC?  Center for Disease Control?” Morgan asked.  
  
“Yeah, what if we headed there,” Rick said.  “Find out how far this virus… _thing_ …spread.”  
  
“You don’t wanna go into Atlanta Rick,” Daryl said.  “‘Sides, when you were in that coma and the virus was spreadin,’ it was pretty much everywhere.”  
  
“Atlanta is really a no go, huh?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Merle cut in, “people were tryin’ to get _outta_ the city.”  
  
“Look, you guys ‘re probably right.  There’s no rush for any of us to leave here,” Rick said.  “We don’t have anyone to look for, we can stay put.  But we gotta be more proactive ‘bout it.”  
  
“If you’re thinkin’ ‘bout that crazy idea of yours, damn moats with all the dead bodies,” Daryl started.  
  
“Naw,” Rick chuckled.  “But I was thinking, those thangs are stupid.  They’re mindless.  We can build traps for ‘em ‘round an area.  Keep ‘em out so’s we’re still able to roam ‘round town free.  And we can gather as much supplies as we need ‘round here.  Maybe find other places that have propane set-ups.  Not just for showering,” and here Rick blushed ever so slightly, “but for cookin,’ and to keep us warm in the winter.”  
  
Morgan looked at Merle and back at Daryl.  “Not a bad idea,” Merle shrugged.  
  
“And we can start killin’ those walkers out there.  We’ll get really good at it after a while.  We can clear this town,” Rick said, pausing and tilting his head.  
  
Daryl knew that head tilt.  It meant Rick was prepared for the rest of the group to start locking horns at this point.  
  
“You wanna start takin’ those geeks out?!” Merle exclaimed.  “And 'm not talkin' 'bout for a night of beer and pool.”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said.  “We can do it.  I’ve been thinking ‘bout it.  We can do it durin’ the day.  Set up diversions for ‘em,” Rick said as he looked to Daryl for support.  
  
 _No one’s ever done_ that _before._  
  
“We can set off damn car alarms, have the fuckers come right to us,” Daryl said.  
  
“We can be up high, like on a second story of a house or the roof of some building and start pickin’ them off.  Not from where we live though, somewhere else.  We could clear this town,” Rick said, looking intently at each and every single person in the kitchen.  
  
“It could work,” Morgan said excitedly.  “Clear the town, set up traps.”  
  
“We all stick together.  We all do this together.  We’ll all have each other’s back.  We can do this.  And we’ll get real good at killin’ those fuckers out there.  That way, if we ever _do_ have to leave, or maybe wanna leave, we can handle ourselves out there, on the road,” Rick said.  
  
“We should be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice,” Daryl said.  “Just in case.”  
  
Daryl watched as Morgan became agitated once again.  He looked over at Rick and noticed Rick was watching Morgan in the same way.  
  
“Morgan?” Rick asked.  “’S jus’ a precaution.  We can stay, but jus’ in case.  I mean, we could get lucky and just be able to wait the whole thing out here…”  
  
“Never said...the reason I don’t wanna leave.  My wife, my Jenny, she’s,” Morgan stopped to gather himself before continuing, his son Duane coming to his side.  
  
“Daddy?  ’S okay.  Tell ‘em,” Duane said.  
  
“She’s still out there,” Morgan said while shaking his head.  “I can’t leave her.  She’s out there every night.  I see her.  I can’t leave.  Not ’til I put her to rest...but I just can’t bring myself to _do_ it.”  
  
Daryl wanted to empathize with the man, but he just couldn’t put himself in his place.  
  
So he thought of having to kill Merle if his brother turned.  
  
 _They would probably have to pull you off him while you repeatedly stabbed him in the head._  
  
Then he thought of Rick.  
  
Rick lumbering around, his eyes white, not focusing.  His legs at odd angles, while he dragged himself toward Daryl.  His arms swaying to a rhythm only he could hear.  No one any longer home in that head, the person who Rick was long gone.  
  
 _So now you get where Morgan is coming from, don’t you?_  
  
“You want one of us to do it for you man,” Daryl asked, as he gazed intently at Morgan.  
  
“No, no.  It has to be me,” Morgan said.  
  
Daryl noticed Duane in the background, shaking a bit.  
  
“When the time comes, we’ll be there, okay?” Rick said, as he came up to Morgan and put his hand on his shoulder.  
  
Morgan nodded and smiled at Rick.  “Okay.”  
  
“So we gotta plan,” Rick said.  “We start tomorrow.  Create a diversion, get them fuckers to come right at us.  We’ll clear a few houses on the other side of town, start takin’ them out.  Just shooting ‘em for now, from second story windows.  We’ll each shoot from a different house, so’s we confuse ‘em.”  
  
 _He seems to have quite the grasp about tactics and such.  
_

Daryl wasn't sure if he should be really impressed or just the tiniest bit afraid of Rick's knowledge of urban warfare.  
  
“Whoa,” Morgan chuckled.  “Where’d you learn all that?  Maybe you were some kind of sniper in the military.”  
  
“You shoot a lot of people from the tops of building’s there Rick?” Merle asked suspiciously.  “Does the name _‘Beltway’_ ring any bells?”  
  
“What?  Like, I’m some kind of a serial,” Rick scoffed, “ _serial_ sniper?!  First I’m a self-regenerating mutant.  Now I’m a serial killer sniper,” Rick laughed as he shook his head.  
  
“Do you _feel_ like a serial killer, sniper or otherwise?’ Morgan asked off-handedly.  
  
“Do I feel like a sociopathic killer?  Well, if I was, would I tell you the truth ‘bout it?” Rick asked pointedly.  
  
“Well, iffen he was,” Merle said, “he’s real good at divertin’ us.”  
  
“You’ll just have to trust me on this.  I jus’ ‘member this stuff from somewhere, must’ve been the movies,” Rick shrugged.  
  
Daryl had to laugh at the thought of Rick as something he clearly was not.  
  
The fact of the matter was, there wasn’t anything sinister about Rick.  
  
Although, Daryl would never rule out the fact that Rick could be the kind of person who might, if pushed and pushed hard, become someone people might regret having pushed so hard in the first place.  
  
“And who the hell said you were a self-regeneratin’ mutant?!” Morgan sputtered out.    
  
“You mean like Wolverine?” Duane snickered.  
  
“Don’t know what you’all find so funny ‘bout that,” Merle muttered.  
  
“Should’ve known,” Morgan nodded as he glared at Merle.  
  
“As I was sayin,’ ‘fore we got diverted to talk ‘bout snipers and such,” Rick started.  
  
“Which you’re really good at,” Merle interjected.  "Diverting, that is."  
  
Rick cleared his throat, “we’ll burn the bodies when we’re done.  We won’t worry ‘bout killin’ them on the ground ’til we’ve cleared a fair amount…”  
  
“Just what a sniper would say,” Merle said.  “Pick ‘em off up high first ‘fore going inta hand to hand combat.”  
  
“I assure you,” Rick sighed, “I’m not the Beltway sniper or any sniper for that matter, now may I please continue?”  
  
“Of course,” Merle muttered.  “Wouldn’t wanna get picked off in my sleep.”  
  
“Don’t have to be a sociopath to want to off _you_ in your sleep,” Morgan said to Merle.  
  
“While we’re clearin’ the town of walkers," Rick continued, "we’ll make a map that shows us where everything is.  Stuff we might want, stuff we’ll need.  Keep an inventory.”  
  
“We should find generators,” Daryl interjected.  
  
“We could build housing 'round them,” Morgan said.  “Make ‘em quiet.”  
  
“Sounds good to me,” Daryl said, Merle nodding along with Morgan.  
  
And it was.  A good plan, that is.  
  
A solid plan.  Kill the walkers (getting good at it in the interim).  Clear the town of the threat and widen their safe zone.  Gather supplies.  
  
“So you’re sayin,’” Merle said, his head cocked to the side as he regarded Rick, “startin’ tomorrow, we make this town _ours_.”  
  
“Yes, Merle, that’s what ‘m sayin,’” Rick said.  
  
“Well fuck yeah!” Merle exclaimed, a smile spreading wide upon his face.  
  
Morgan hugged Duane to him, hope shining in their faces as well.  
  
Daryl looked over at Rick, who happened to be looking right back at him, and smiled.  
  
It looked like things were going their way.  That the balance of all the terrible things that had happened was finally tipping in their favor.  
  
Of course, being the superstitious man that he was, he would not say anything out loud lest he should jinx them.  
  
  
  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My father was a sniper in the South Pacific in WW2, so I guess it stuck, his stories that is.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These updates will start coming faster, I promise. It's just been a harsh week.

  
  
  
  
Rick’s POV  
  
  
  
Rick helped Morgan load the bodies they had just ‘cleared’ onto the back of the pickup truck.  
  
They were doing good.  Three days had gone by of clearing the town of walkers and they had taken out another thirty just today.  
  
Taking his small notebook out of his back pocket, he added the new tally to his existing running total.  
  
It was slow going, but they were getting it done.  It may have been only twenty-five to thirty a day, but it was something.  
  
The routine was simple.  
  
Scope out two houses or buildings facing each other.  
  
Then plant a few cars in the middle of the street, all rigged so their car alarms would go off at the same time.  
  
It was two people to each house, both of them clearing all rooms of any stragglers.  
  
Then find the perfect room to establish as the ‘kill room.’  
  
That is, the place where they could sit at the window while shooting walkers, the other person watching the shooter’s back by checking around the house for any walkers trying to get into the house.  
  
Merle had originally wanted to call the ‘kill room’ the ‘grassy knoll,’ but that led Morgan to tell Merle that that was disrespectful which led to an argument about how Kennedy was really killed which led to a discussion about Oliver Stone which led to a heated debate about how Oliver Stone killed Rodney Dangerfield’s career.  
  
So the four of them settled on the ‘kill room’ and cooked up an extra portion of chili so Merle would stop his sulking.

Once settled into their respective kill rooms, they would shoot one of the cars so it would trigger the other cars and create a loud cacophony.  
  
When enough walkers appeared at one time, the two shooters would aim for their heads and bring them down.  
  
Once it was all clear, and the walkers stopped coming, which always made the others wonder where they actually _went_ during the day, they would come down and clear the bodies by loading them up on the back of the pickup trucks.  
  
Then they would drive the trucks to the burn site, pile the bodies on top of each other, douse them in gasoline and light them up.  
  
Of course the fire drew walkers too, so they would have to leave immediately and go back to their safe house.  
  
After they had finished loading the bodies from today’s kill, which Morgan had taken to call ‘clearing,’ since it didn’t sound as dreadful, to which Merle had argued that ‘it didn’t matter seein’ as them things ‘re already dead anyway,’ Rick jumped onto the back of Morgan and Duane’s truck while Daryl had jumped onto the back of Merle’s.  
  
As they drove along the road, a few minutes later, Rick spotted something he had seen in the distance so he signaled over to Daryl with a hand wave and a nod, Daryl rapping on the side of the truck to get Merle to stop the truck.  
  
Rick barely ever had to say anything to Daryl since he seemed to know what he was planning to do anyway.  
  
_Of course he does._  
  
It was as if they were tuned into the same frequency as each other, just like Rick could instruct Morgan to stop the truck because he was on the same channel as him on their walkie-talkie, courtesy of the King County Sheriff’s Department.  
  
“What’s up?” Daryl asked Rick as he walked up to him, that swagger in his step that Rick was coming to love.  
  
_You are so gone if you’re noticing his particular swagger._  
  
Rick told them to go on ahead and start up the fires, Daryl and him catching up later.  He watched as the trucks drove away.  
  
“Look,” Rick said as he pointed to the large, yet simple, white church behind him.  
  
“You feel like prayin’ now?” Daryl said.  “What?  Gotta cleanse your soul or some shit?”  
  
“Yeah right.”  Rick sighed and pointed upward, “look up.”  
  
Daryl looked at where Rick was pointing.  “Just a steeple.”  
  
“You reckon that’s about four stories up?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl nodded before turning to regard Rick thoughtfully.  “Thought the water tower’d be the perfect lookout.  ’S higher than this.”  
  
“And it’s just where people’d _expect_ us to be if they decided to come to town,” Rick said intently, before scratching the bridge of his nose and putting his hand on his hip.  “I mean, look, it’d be great if other people came here, but we gotta be careful…”  
  
_You mean like be careful of men who openly admit they were going to rob a group with families in them?  Or maybe be careful of the guy in the group who had just woken up from a coma with a big bullet wound in him?_  
  
_Exactly who are you protecting your group from?  People like you?_  
  
“I get it Rick. Don’t gotta explain.  Gotta be more careful.  So let’s check it out,” Daryl nodded as he indicated the double doors.  “Let’s get ready, in case they’re any church goin’ folk in there right now,” Daryl said as he was about to open one of the doors.  
  
“You know Daryl, I wouldna thought that iffen you hadn’t warned me,” Rick said as he poked fun at the other man.  
  
“Stop being a smart ass,” Daryl smiled.  “Tha’s probably why you got shot.  You mouthed off to someone you shouldna had.”  
  
Rick chuckled right before becoming serious and opening the door slowly.  
  
It seemed there were a few people who had decided to worship at God’s altar, despite them not being conscience of the fact.

_I wonder what walkers pray for?_

_Fresh meat?_

_Well, here's two.  They always did say God works in mysterious ways..._  
  
Rick counted about six, adding that mentally to his tally right before he took the three walkers on his side of the church while Daryl took the other side.  
  
They cleared a few more rooms, thankfully no more walkers waiting for them and made their way cautiously up the winding staircase to the steeple.  
  
“You secure the door downstairs?” Rick asked.  
  
“Yes dear,” Daryl drawled.  “I ‘member what happened last time I didn’t secure the door of that one house after we cleared it,” he said as he rolled his eyes.  
  
Luckily it had only been Merle that time, cussing out Daryl for not securing the door after entering and not walkers.  
  
Rick looked down onto the street below and across the town.  
  
It was high enough up so he could just barely see the road leading into town.  Looking out the other side, he could almost make out the road leading out.  
  
He could see Morgan and Merle piling their day’s kill on the funeral pyres.  He watched as Morgan doused the bodies in gasoline, Duane standing slightly back, but close enough to the two older men at all times.  
  
Duane was smart.  
  
He may not have been savvy enough yet at killing, but he knew how to stay out of danger and to stay close when they told him to.  
  
Duane was also becoming a good shot.  He had yet to kill a walker up close, but Rick knew the time would come when he would be able to, just like the rest of them.  
  
He wished he could let Duane be a little boy for a little while longer but this new world didn’t seem to agree with that.  
  
“This is perfect,” Rick said, as he leaned out the window, his hands clasping the sill.  “We can see everythang from here.”  
  
Rick noticed the grove of Cherry blossom trees straight ahead.  They were lined up along one street.  Spring had long since gone.  Summer had too for that matter.  
  
But those trees would blossom again, signaling the start of next Spring.  
  
And he would make damn sure the five of them, at the very least, were still there to watch that happen.  
  
“Good site,” Daryl said.  “You’re right.  ’S perfect,” he said as leaned in next to Rick, bumping his shoulder with his.  
  
Rick looked back and smiled at his partner.  
  
_Seriously?  What are you going to call him?_  
  
_His._  
  
Because that was what Daryl was.  
  
His.  
  
Rick leaned in and kissed him on the lips.  In return, Daryl grabbed Rick’s face and deepened the kiss.  It was as if Daryl was trying to _absorb_ everything that Rick was at that moment, inhale him in, consume him.  
  
And Rick would let him.

He welcomed it.  
  
“You know why else this place is perfect?” Daryl grinned lazily.  
  
Daryl ran his hands down Rick’s shirt and lowered himself to the ground, Rick leaning down to look at the other man kneeling at his feet.  
  
“Daryl?” Rick whimpered.  “Here?”  
  
“Why not?” Daryl shrugged, a devilish glint in his eye.  
  
_Because it was a church?_  
  
_Because it was disrespectful to the dead downstairs?_  
  
_Because Rick could see Merle and Morgan from his vantage point and even though they couldn’t see him, it still felt...exposed?_  
  
But all of that went out the window, when Daryl unzipped his jeans and set Rick’s cock free, nuzzling it with his cheek right before he swallowed him whole.  
  
This was new. 

The last few nights they had only had time for a little bit of kissing before they fell back on the pillows, exhausted with their days’ work, falling asleep in each other’s arms.  
  
The morning would come and they would have to get their day started early or risk losing daylight later on.  
  
But Rick wasn’t thinking about dead walkers, or kill rooms, or burning bodies or getting up in the morning and doing it all over again.  
  
Not when Daryl was treating his cock like it was an ice cream cone, a fresh dipped one, on the hottest day of the year.  
  
“Damn you taste good,” Daryl drawled huskily.  
  
Rick looked out at the line of trees.  He imagined what they would look like come next Spring as he swallowed heavily.  
  
_Oh god that feels so good.  Please don’t stop…_  
  
He could imagine the buds on the branches starting off a very bright pink.  
  
Rick inhaled sharply when Daryl dipped his tongue into his slit, the nerves in his body alerting him how close he was.  
  
_Don’t look down yet._  
  
He knew it would be over if he looked down.  
  
Rick continued to focus on the trees as he imagined the buds would start to blossom and expand, the bright pink turning a few shades lighter.  
  
Rick was moving his hips in an easy rhythm, fucking Daryl’s mouth slowly  
  
He could almost make out the exploding canvas of color, glowing pinks and whites, the flowers would become as they came to completion, and how the street would come to life as the blossoms went scattering in the faintest of breezes.  
  
Rick rolled his eyes in bliss before he looked down at Daryl, who happened to be looking right back at him.  They made eye contact for the briefest moments before Rick moaned Daryl’s name and shot into his lover’s mouth.  
  
“Fuck Rick!” Daryl whimpered as he shot up and grabbed Rick’s face and kissed him again, his tongue probing deeply, Rick tasting himself on the other man.  “Fuck that was hot!”  
  
Rick was leaning against the window sill, coming down off his high.  
  
“What…what ‘bout you?” Rick asked, still slightly shaky, as he looked down at Daryl’s own pants, his zipper undone and his pants wide open at his crotch.  
  
“Already taken care of, came while you was comin,’” Daryl said.  “You were so fuckin’ hot.”  
  
“You already said that,” Rick chuckled.  
  
“Been wantin’ to do that for awhile now,” Daryl said as he brought his forehead to Rick’s and breathed the other man in.  
  
“I wouldna stopped you,” Rick said.  
  
Both men looked over to see Merle and Morgan ready to get back into their trucks, Rick getting on his walkie-talkie while leaning out the window.  The static seemed to be less the farther up he got.  “Merle.  Morgan.  Come in.”  
  
“Damn, you sound right next door,” Merle said.  
  
“Location,” Rick said.   
  
“That reminds me of a joke.  What’d the antennae say to the other antennae at the wedding?” Merle said into the radio.  
  
“I dunno,” Rick drawled back, watching as Daryl rolled his eyes.  
  
“Lousy ceremony but great party,” Merle snickered.  
  
“I don’t get it,” Rick shrugged at Daryl, who shrugged back.   
  
Daryl and Rick watched as Morgan grabbed the device out of Merle’s hand and talked into it.  “Damn fool can’t even get the damn joke right.  It’s lousy ceremony, but great _reception_.  What do you need Rick?” Morgan asked.  
  
“Just meet us back here at the church where you dropped us off,” Rick chuckled as he clicked the radio off and put it in his holster.  
  
He walked up to Daryl and put his arms around his lover’s neck.  “That thang you just did?  You gotta teach me how to do it.”  
  
“Have those lips of yours on my cock?!” Daryl mocked.  “Oh!  I’d hate that!”   
  
“And now who’s the smart ass,” Rick scoffed.  
  
Both men made their way down the winding staircase and out the double doors, to catch their ride back to the house.  
  
  
  
  
_And on a clogged highway, somewhere off Atlanta…_  
  
  
Shane’s POV  
  
  
  
Shane was pissed.  They should have been on their way to Fort Benning but they had to stop because of the congested highway.   
  
And then the herd came through.  
  
They lost T-Dog.  
  
He bled out and led a small pack of walkers to him.  There had been nothing any of them could do about it.  
  
And now they lost that little girl, Sophie.  
  
Glenn and Shane had tried looking for her, but it was no use.  
  
And now everyone wanted to camp there for the night, on that accursed highway, in case she managed to come back.  
  
Shane’s faith in that little girl coming back was about zero.  
  
Just like his patience with the rest of the group right about now.  
  
That was why he was fixing up the Kia, so him, Carl and Lori could get the hell out of there themselves.  
  
It was as he was laying down on the seat, working under the dashboard, that he heard _it._  
  
The static comming through on the radio.  
  
He wasn’t exactly sure what they had been saying.  It seemed like not much.  Just a few words scattered here and there.  If he had a gun held to his head, he couldn't tell you what they had actually been saying.  
  
And then there was silence.  
  
Shane stared at the radio for a long time after that.  
  
It was only when Dale came up to him, about a half an hour later, that he was broken from its spell.  
  
“You okay?” Dale asked.  “You seem,” he said as he waved his hand in the air.   
  
_He probably thinks you’re crazy._  
  
_Well, that makes two of you._  
  
“’S just Sophie…and T-Dog, man,” Shane said somberly.  
  
Dale nodded his head.  “Well, come sit with us, have something to eat,” he said and turned away, the dwindling group’s numbers heavy on his shoulders as it was on his.  
  
Shane looked back at the radio.  
  
When he was in junior high, he remembered a reading assignment he had bitched to Rick about the entire night, as they crawled up into their secret place up in the trees at Shane’s house to read.  Then again, he always bitched about whatever book that old crank of a teacher assigned them.  It was always better though when he could share the reading with Rick.   
  
It was by Edgar Allen Poe, a story about a guy who could hear the dead heart beating of a man who he had killed.  The noise had gotten louder as his guilt became worse.  
  
But that was nothing like Shane’s problem.  
  
_Keep telling yourself that._  
  
_Remember, the person most people lie to the most are themselves._  
  
He remembered listening for Rick’s heartbeat in his hospital room.  
  
He hadn’t heard it.   
  
Shane looked at the radio one last time.  
  
The voice he heard over that radio had been Rick’s, there was no doubt about it.  
  
Which lead Shane to only one conclusion.  
  
He was most assuredly going crazy.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And oh yeah, so we'll be getting deeper into the smut from this point on.
> 
> And dead walkers.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the season finale, huh? *nods head*
> 
> It was like watching the damn Super Bowl again. Sitting on pins and needles, eating lots of nachos while drinking lots of coffee and screaming at the television screen. It was pretty satisfying though. How was it for you?

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
Daryl woke to the most _wonderful_ wet dream, his hips rolling in time with his thrusts, his legs becoming jelly with the pleasurable feelings running throughout his body.  
  
His feeling of total nirvana was only heightened when he realized he was _actually_ fully awake now and that it wasn’t in fact a wet dream but reality as he took in the form of Rick, paying close attention to his cock.  
  
His very erect, very aroused cock.  
  
“Fuck don’t stop,” Daryl moaned as he lay his head back on the pillow, his hips still rotating in a slow rhythm.  
  
Rick stopped licking around the head and looked up.  “Am I doin’ it right?”  
  
 _Was he doing it right?!_

 _Is he insane?!_  
  
“The only thing _not right_ ‘bout it is ya stopped,” Daryl sighed.  He popped his head back up and looked down at Rick, who set his sights on his cock again by sliding his lips over his erection.  
  
Now Daryl had dreamed about those lips on his johnson several times.    
  
He had dreamed about it in the middle of the night as he watched over Rick while he slept, his mouth sometimes forming a small ‘o.'  
  
He had day dreamed about it whenever he saw Rick eating something, licking something off a damn spoon.  
  
Or when Rick was deep in thought about something, and his mouth would hang open just slightly.  
  
Then his lover would drive Daryl crazy, not consciously of course, by licking his lips, the bottom lip becoming wet, and almost seeming plumper because of it.  
  
And now!  Now his brain couldn’t even process what he was seeing!  
  
Those fucking wet lips, spit-shined from all the attention Rick had been lavishing on his cock, were trying to swallow his member whole.  
  
He watched as the top lip maneuvered its way down slowly, so slowly and then come sliding back up, just as slowly.  Rick released his cock and looked up, his swollen lips wet while his half-hooded eyes regarded Daryl.  “Never done this ‘fore, I think,” he frowned.  
  
Daryl wasn’t sure if he felt relief about that, being that would make him Rick’s first.  
  
 _That and you’re a bit of a possessive freak sometimes._  
  
But more worrisome than feeling relief was something Daryl didn’t like to think about much.  
  
If Rick hadn’t done this before, then that meant he probably hadn’t had a boyfriend and _that_ led Daryl to think that maybe he had had a girlfriend instead, or a wife…  
  
And that led him back to realizing why it was he didn’t like to think about it in the first place.  
  
“Dunno, you’re doin’ real good,” Daryl said as he swallowed.  “Must’ve done it ‘fore…sometime.”  
  
Rick thought about it for a second, shrugged and dove back down onto Daryl’s member, taking it into his mouth completely.  
  
“Fuck Rick!” Daryl yelled as he arched off the bed.  He lay his head back down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.  He knew if he looked at those lips again he would spend himself immediately and he was enjoying the feeling way too much of Rick’s tongue lapping at him like he was some damn lollipop.  
  
Daryl moaned and whimpered alternately until he felt the tell-tale signs of his imminent climax.  
  
And if Rick’s tongue on him while swallowing him down wasn’t enough, his lover began to moan, the sound reverberating throughout his cock and Daryl came with a shout.  
  
He came so hard and so loud he was sure Merle would come banging on the door to find out what the hell was up.  
  
Daryl sat up on his elbows with some effort, while he tried to get his breathing back under control.    
  
He made the mistake of looking at Rick as he was licking his lips, a corner of them still having a bit of his come on them.  “Aw hell Rick!” Daryl moaned as he tackled him back down onto the bed and kissed him thoroughly, licking every inch of his mouth for him, biting at those perfect lips.  “God-damned that was fuckin’ hot!” he breathed out.  
  
Rick started quietly laughing, while running his hand through his damp curls.  
  
“What?!” Daryl said as he touched Rick’s forehead with his own and smiled.  “Wha’s so funny?  I don’t taste as good as you?”  
  
“You.  You’re funny,” Rick smiled lazily.  “You talk so dirty when we’re in the middle of…well…what we’ve been in the middle of lately.”  
  
“Can’t help it,” Daryl grinned, “you get me all hot.”  
  
“You sound like a cheesy porn video,” Rick chuckled again.  
  
“Le’s go see what they rustled up for breakfast,” Daryl said as he cleaned himself up with some wipes and zipped himself back up.  
  
“‘M thinkin’ bacon and eggs,” Rick smiled dreamily.

 _Fat chance of that._  
  
“I’d settle for pancakes and sausage,” Daryl said.

 _Fat chance of that too._  
  
“Never did like pancakes,” Rick shrugged, then winced.  “Always tasted _awful._   Lumpy and I dunno…”  
  
“Sounds like no one ever made them right for ya,” Daryl said.  “I was always good at flapjacks.  Maybe we can get the stuff we need together and I could make ‘em for you…the right way.”  
  
“Can you whip up bacon too?” Rick pouted.  
  
 _And the pout was back._  
  
“Maybe one day we’ll find a feral pig…or a wild boar.  Then ya can have all the bacon you want,” Daryl smiled.  
  
And he would too.  Find a damn wild boar.  He would catch the fucking thing with his damn crossbow if need be, bring it back and slaughter the damn thing himself.  
  
Just so Rick could have some bacon.

_The things you do for love._

_Yes, I just said love._

_What about it?_  
  
Rick looked back at Daryl and smiled.  “Wild boar would be dangerous.  ’S okay.”  
  
“No more dangerous than killin’ walkers,” Daryl shrugged.  “Merle?!” he shouted when they reached downstairs.  He looked around to find the house eerily quiet.  
  
They both walked into the kitchen to also find it empty.  
  
“Duane?!  Morgan?” Rick called.  
  
Morgan had left a note letting Daryl and Rick know that he, Merle and Duane went to the food pantry in town to gather more supplies and to help themselves to the oatmeal cooking in the crock pot.  
  
“'M really gettin' sick of oatmeal,” Rick groused.  
  
“Know it’s food and all but yeah,” Daryl sighed before looking up.  “Ya think they’ll be okay?”  
  
“Sure.  Morgan’s been on his own longer than we have really,” Rick shrugged.  “And Merle, well, I don’t think we could get that lucky, could we?” he chuckled.  
  
“You ass!” Daryl laughed back.  
  
 _Seems to have mirrored your thoughts though from not too long ago…_  
  
But not now.  
  
Merle was doing good.  He was thinking clearly.  He was being part of the group.  
  
He still put up a fight and would gripe about every job he would get.  And be a general pain in the ass.  
  
But it was better now.  Much better, in fact, than it had _ever_ been before.  
  
“All the same, let’s go see if we can help ‘em,” Rick said as he put his bowl down.  
  
It appeared his lover was just as anxious as Daryl was when it came to his group’s well being.  
  
“You just don’t wanna eat your oatmeal,” Daryl said.  
  
“Had my breakfast already, and it was loaded with protein,” Rick smirked.  
  
“Shit!  You been hanging ‘round Merle too long,” Daryl grumbled as they both secured the door and made their way outside, Rick taking the walkie-talkie out of his holster.  
  
“Morgan, come in,” Rick said into the radio.  
  
The radio came alive with static before Morgan replied, “Here Rick.  We’re at the Food Pantry, on Fifth and Maple.”  
  
“Copy,” Rick said and holstered the device.  “Come on,” he said as Daryl started Merle’s bike, a Triumph Bonneville 650.  
  
At this point, the group knew the way the town’s grid worked.  
  
They knew the streets that ran East and West were the names of trees and the streets that ran North and South were numbered.  
  
Both men hopped onto the bike and made their way to the Food Pantry, a food bank that had been set up by the Salvation Army, which had a well stocked supply of large canned items.  
  
As they came to the corner of Fifth and Maple, Daryl slowed down and stopped the bike.  
  
The group had decided at one of their meetings, which weren't really meetings, just breakfast, lunch, dinner, and poker or Scrabble games, or whatever occasion allowed them to be gathered at the table, that they would never drive into a potential dangerous situation.  They would park whatever vehicle they were using, walk around the corner cautiously, check to make sure the area was clear, and then enter the building.  
  
Loading docks, such as the one behind the food bank, were potential danger zones.  
  
So Merle had decided to come up with the acronym PFUS, for Potential Fucked Up Situation, which led Merle to go around calling them Pus’s, saying that the ‘F’ was silent, but because the word ‘Pus’s’ always came out of Merle’s mouth sounding like ‘pussies,’ Morgan had put his foot down and said he refused to call the potential fucked up situations that anymore.  
  
Which led to quite a bit of sulking on Merle’s part which led to Rick giving in part way and saying, ‘what if we just call ‘em P-fus’s,’ and that seemed to make Merle happy for awhile.  
  
“P-fus?” Daryl asked Rick, silently chuckling.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said, shaking his head while climbing off the bike.  
  
Rick and Daryl walked around the building carefully and came to the back area, just in time to see the loading dock a few hundred yards away.  
  
And Duane staring at a female walker, his gun in his hand, frozen on the spot.  
  
Neither Merle nor Morgan were in sight.  
  
They didn't wan to call out to the boy, distracting him, but it seemed the situation was well and truly fucked.  
  
Rick and Daryl broke into a run as fast as they could, trying to reach the dock in time.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know.
> 
> Evil cliffhanger...


	19. Chapter 19

  
  
  
Rick’s POV

  
  
Despite the fact that Rick didn’t remember much about his past, he could still summon up the memory of swimming under water and the sensations associated with it quite readily.  
  
The feeling like no matter how much water you pushed away, more would come in to take its place so you had to push harder.  Or the way all sound was distorted above you and your ears felt the pressure of the water.  
  
The way no matter how fast you swam, you were still moving in slow motion.  
  
Sort of like how he felt his legs were working right about now.  
  
He was moving them as fast as he could to the loading dock, but it still felt like he was dragging himself through high standing water.  
  
The walker stood in front of Duane, just _looking_ at him.  It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime, a lifetime that would soon be cut short for the youngest member of their group if they couldn’t get to him in time.  Duane stood frozen on the spot, a gun in his hand, (and by this point, the boy had indeed shot a few walkers, so this wasn’t his first kill by a long shot), quaking with terror.  
  
But there was no time for Rick to speculate as to why Duane was standing there, as if paralyzed.  
  
Only that the walker was about to swoop down on the boy, and Rick couldn’t count on Duane to possibly fight it off when it would eventually grab hold of him.  
  
Things truly looked bleak until Merle appeared at the dock and shot the walker in the head.  
  
Rick and Daryl stopped just short of his brother and the boy.  
  
_Breathe.  Just breathe._  
  
The thought of that _thing_ attacking Duane, of possibly losing the boy, made something deep down inside Rick twist in pain.  He felt light-headed and nauseated and he almost threw up right there.  
  
Just the mere image in his head of Morgan standing above his son’s mutilated body was enough to send more shivers down his spine.  
  
He did not want to lose one of their members, especially a child, to anything this new world could now throw at them.   
  
Whether that meant a walker, other humans or just the boy’s hesitancy, Rick wanted to make sure, now more than ever, that they would be better prepared and more well equipped to tackle anything that came their way.  
  
Rick didn’t know who he had left behind.   
  
Maybe he never would.  
  
And maybe that was a good thing.   
  
If there were people he knew, he loved or cared about, and they were dead or just one of the rotting corpses walking the earth, he didn’t want to know about it.  About them.  
  
It would serve no purpose for him to fret about people he knew nothing about.  
  
It was futile.  
  
And empty.  
  
This though, _these people,_ Duane and Morgan.  Merle and Daryl…  
  
_Daryl!_  
  
These people were people he had come to depend on, rely on, people he had come to care for.  
  
They were his friends, his new family.  
  
They were five, but they might as well have been one.  
  
They were not simply a group of five people, but five parts of a whole.  
  
If someone eliminated one of them, it would be as if someone had amputated a limb.  
  
And Daryl?  
  
If Morgan and his son and Merle were his outer limbs, then Daryl was his heart.  
  
At one of the houses they had commandeered for their ‘kill room,’ a walker had come out from one of the rooms, causing the door to close in on Daryl and trap him.  The walker had tried to reach the cornered man, but Rick had swooped down, pulled the walker back off his lover, and savagely beat its head in with the machete.  
  
Daryl had had to pull Rick off the fucker.  
  
His heart had been beating so loudly, so erratically, in his chest when he had seen the thing try to attack Daryl that he had not thought much past anything else.  
  
Rage had taken over and he just wanted to _kill._  
  
Rick cherished Daryl above all else.  He _adored_ him.  
  
If one of the group were to die, he would grieve for them, ache for the lost part of their unit.  
  
If Daryl were to die, he would be inconsolable, for his heart would be well and truly broken, as if it had been ripped out of his chest and smashed beyond repair.  
  
Rick looked at Merle, who had turned a shade of pale he had never seen on the man before.  
  
“What in the fuckin’ hell were ya thinkin’ boy!” Merle yelled at Duane, who still stood there, completely still, except for the quiet tremors wracking throughout his body, the gun now having been taken away from him by Daryl.  
  
“Answer me Goddammit!” Merle yelled out again.  
  
“Merle!  Your voice,” Daryl whispered harshly.  “Wanna bring down more geeks on us?!”  
  
Merle held his arms out to the side and yelled.  “Hey fuckers!  Come and get it!”  He turned around and spit at the ground.  “Ain’t no geeks ‘round here, just her,” he said as he spat at the ground again and pointed to the freshly killed walker.  
  
Merle was angry.   
  
Not just angry, but _furious._  
  
_Yeah, well, he has a right to be._  
  
But worse than that, he was scared.  
  
_And he’s not the only one, now is he?_  
  
“Ya had all the time in the fuckin’ world to shoot at it!” Merle shouted as he got in Duane’s face.  “Ya wanna be eaten, gutted like some goddamned trout!?”  
  
“Merle,” Daryl sighed angrily, “go easy on him.  He’s jus’ a kid.”  
  
“Where’s Morgan?” Rick asked as he looked around.  
  
“Here.  I’m here,” Morgan said somberly as he looked down from the dock at the scene he had walked in on.  “Came when I heard the yelling,” he swallowed.  
  
“Duane didn’t shoot the fucker!  He froze!  He didn’t hesitate.  _He froze!!_ ” Merle screamed at Morgan, the anger fading from his voice as he became more and more choked up.  
  
Rick looked at Duane, who was still shaking, his broken sobs grabbing hold of Rick’s heart and not letting go.  
  
“Morgan?” Rick asked as he noticed the man was standing transfixed, looking down at the corpse, as if spellbound.  
  
“That’s my Jenny,” Morgan said, as he too started to shudder, tears slowly tracking down his face.  
  
Merle stopped his fuming and turned, as did Daryl as well, both looking at Morgan.  
  
“Your…your _wife_ ,” Daryl winced.  
  
“Yeah.  The one I couldn’t bring myself to…to,”  Morgan kept his eyes trained on what used to be his wife, as if she might magically come back to life, looking just as she had when she had been alive, vibrant and beautiful, nothing like the rotted corpse before him.  
  
Merle’s scowl turned humble as he faced Morgan dead on.  
  
“Aw hell,” Merle grimaced, “I’m sorry, but she was gonna…”  
  
And before anyone knew what was going on, Morgan was on Merle in a heartbeat.  
  
Rick and Daryl had quickly stepped forward, thinking that Morgan was about to attack Merle, when something else happened instead.  
  
Morgan grabbed onto Merle and hugged him tightly.  Merle’s face had become completely befuddled, as Rick could see from his vantage point.  “Thank you.  Thank you for saving my…thank you for doing what I should have done already,” Morgan babbled as he tore himself away from the stunned man and looked shamefacedly down.  “I almost lost Duane.”  
  
The trio watched as Morgan stepped away, bringing his fist up to his mouth, the weight of what almost happened crushing him as surely as if a bus had just been dropped onto his shoulders.  
  
They could have lost Duane today.  
  
But they didn’t because Merle was there.  
  
“I couldn’t shoot her daddy.  I couldn’t,” Duane sobbed.  
  
Merle stepped up to Duane and got down to his eye level.  “No one would’ve expected ya to.  ’S okay.  Shoulda been watchin’ your back better.  ’S my fault,” he grumbled.  
  
Daryl and Rick watched as Duane threw himself at Merle and hugged him tightly.  When the boy released him, he looked up at Merle in awe and just a bit of fondness.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Merle groused.  “Now can we all stop touchin’ and huggin’ each other.  Next y’all wanna be singing’ Kumbaya while holdin’ hands or some shit.”  
  
Daryl looked back at Rick and smirked, a whole conversation going on between them, the need for words unnecessary.  
  
Rick stepped up to Morgan, “You alright?  I mean, you’re not alright I know but…”  
  
“No Rick,” Morgan said as he stood up straighter.  “I already made peace with my wife's death…before.  But I couldn’t really be at peace until the last of her…was gone.  I’m actually relieved,” he smiled sadly.  “But this ain’t one of the bodies we burn,” he stated adamantly.  
  
“No!” Rick said without haste.  “No, we bury her.  Pay our respects.  Maybe put some flowers around her, um, her…”  
  
“ _Grave_ , Rick,” Morgan said.  “It’s a grave.  And she’d like that,” he said, a sense of calm seeming to flow over the man, Rick putting his hand on his grieving friend’s shoulder.  
  
“Let’s lift her up carefully,” Daryl said as he went to grab a tarp he spotted on the dock.  “We’ll put her on the back of the truck and drive her back.”  
  
“The cherry blossom trees,” Rick blurted out.  
  
“What now?” Merle said.  
  
“We should bury her over there, in that grove of cherry blossom trees,” Rick said.  
  
Morgan looked delighted, somber, but delighted.  “Now _that?_   Jenny would _love_ that,” he said as he nodded to Rick.  
  
“Merle, where ya goin?’” Daryl said as Rick looked over and noticed Merle walking away from the group.  
  
“I’m gonna go to that cafe.  The one me and Morgan cleared.  Need a drink,” he said without any further elaboration.  
  
“Maybe I should go with ya,” Daryl said.  
  
“I can take care of myself baby brother.  You get goin’ and start diggin.’  I’ll be there,” Merle shooed him away.  
  
“It’s okay,” Rick said as he came around and hugged Daryl from behind.  “He just needs a moment.”  
  
Rick’s searching gaze met that of Merle’s, the man regarding the pair of them.  
  
Rick had stopped feeling as if Merle had been watching them with anything close to resentment or disappointment quite a while ago.  
  
If anything, there was a quiet understanding and dare he say it?  
  
Approval.  
  
Merle _approved_ of them.   
  
“You go on back with your girlfriend Darlina, I’ll be along,” he smirked.  
  
_Wait, girlfriend?_  
  
“Whaddya mean _girlfriend?_ ” Rick shouted at Merle’s retreating back.  
  
“Come on,” Daryl laughed quietly.  
  
And with that, both men turned away, helping Morgan with the final preparations for his wife, Jenny.  
  
  
  
  
Merle’s POV  
  
  
  
Merle reached behind the bar and pulled out the bottle of Jack Daniels.  He reached for one of the clean glasses, but stopped just short of it and decided to take a hearty swig straight from the bottle.  
  
Him and Morgan had cleared the cafe only two days ago.  It was a great place.  
  
Fully stocked bar.  Pool table.  A couple of pinball machines.  
  
Maybe they would attach a battery power pack to one of them so Duane could play one of the machines.  
  
Of course, they would have to explain to him there weren’t any controllers or anything resembling ‘infinite lives.’  
  
He could just play an old fashioned game of pinball, like his daddy did when he was Duane’s age.  
  
Merle took another swig when he remembered the scene he had walked into when he saw that walker,  
  
_His mother_  
  
About ready to pounce on the kid.  
  
This life, the way it was now, was fucked up.  
  
It was short.  
  
It was hard.  
  
And you took friends and family where you could.  
  
And love?  
  
You took that when and where you could too.  
  
Of course, if you were your baby brother, then you could be lucky enough to find the one person you were waiting for your whole damn life.  
  
He knew Daryl had been queer.  But more than that, he knew Daryl.  And he knew he didn’t just take to _anybody._  
  
If he wasn’t interested, then you didn’t even register on his radar.  
  
Merle liked sex.  He liked the company of women.  
  
He took it wherever he could get it.  
  
But not Daryl.  
  
The man could go years without anything.  
  
So imagine Merle’s surprise when after everything that went down, the shit hitting the fan, as Merle was always fond of saying, Daryl finally, _finally,_ found his special someone.  
  
Whether it was fate, or chance or damn Lady Luck, Daryl found it.  
  
What he had always been looking for.  
  
Someone to fill that empty place in his heart.  
  
Which was why he was at the cafe right now, because it wasn’t just for the whiskey, although that was a big plus.  
  
When Morgan and him had cleared the place, Merle had been looking around and noticed the pictures up on the wall above the bar.  
  
And he noticed one in particular.  
  
A picture of a smiling, happy family.  One that had seen better days.  
  
He knew the woman and kid right away.  
  
He had remembered the fights the woman, Lori, had had with the prick, Shane.  Fights about leaving her husband to die.  Leaving him for dead.  
  
Shane assuring Lori that her husband had been dead.  He _checked_ , at least that was what he kept saying.  
  
The pieces started to fall into place, now that Merle’s mind was working at full capacity.  
  
The husband Lori and Shane argued about had been Shane’s partner, also a deputy.  
  
He never knew Lori’s last name, but he did now.  
  
Because right next to Carl in the family photo was Rick.  A smiling, happy Rick.  
  
Rick had been shot in the line of duty.  And why the three of them, with their combined genius, when coming up with different scenarios of how Rick had been shot, never came up with the obvious, that Rick had been in law enforcement, Merle couldn’t say for sure.  
  
So Rick had been shot and lay in a coma in the hospital.  
  
And the prick had left him there.  Left him for dead.  
  
And fucked his wife.  
  
Took Rick’s family, his wife and kid, and decided to make them his own.  
  
He loved his baby brother.  He truly did.  
  
He liked Rick too.  The man grew on him.  And Rick loved Daryl, just as surely as his brother loved him back.  
  
Merle had never been there for Daryl, but he would be now.  
  
And with that, Merle clicked his lighter on and burned the family photo in his hand.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And the plot thickens...


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so what everyone's been waiting for...

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV

 

  
  
  
“So…what’re we lookin’ at?” Daryl asked, as he kept his eyes trained on the pair of dead walkers below him.  
  
By the looks of their rumpled uniforms, they had both been security guards for the public works department.  Now fresh bullet wounds adorned their foreheads.  
  
Morgan had brought the pair to Rick’s and his attention while him and Merle were dragging the bodies together to burn after that afternoon’s kill.  
  
“There’s no bite marks on ‘em…anywhere,” Morgan sighed.  
  
“There’s gotta be,” Rick said, his hand on his hip.   
  
“Not a fuckin’ one,” Merle grumbled.  
  
“And they’re not the only ones,” Morgan said as he looked intently at the group before him.  “I noticed some others.”  
  
“Then how’d they turn?” Daryl asked, his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
“You guys were here,” Rick started.  “And I… _wasn’t._   How exactly _did_ all this begin?  You know, the dead comin’ back to life.  I mean…there had to be a first…walker, right?”  
  
“You mean, who was the first one to start it,” Morgan said thoughtfully.  “Like Typhoid Mary?”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said as he pointed to Morgan excitedly.  “Gotta start somewhere.”  
  
“Dunno,” Merle shrugged.  “One day people were gettin’ sick and then droppin’ dead and then it was like wildfire.  Don’t think none of 'em were called Mary though.”  
  
Daryl watched as Morgan and Rick shook their heads while quietly chuckling.  
  
“Wait a fuckin’ minute!  Rick’s right.  How _did_ it begin?” Merle asked.  
  
“Well, it must’ve been people got sick with the virus, like they were bit,” Daryl interjected, “died and then they became walkers and then they…”  
  
“ _They_ started biting people and then it was like a line of dominoes,” Morgan finished.  
  
Rick scratched his head.  “So people got sick first?  With the virus?  Or what if it was the other way ‘round?”  
  
“You mean, they died, then got sick.  Da’ hell you saying?” Merle asked in confusion.  
  
“I dunno,” Rick groaned as he grabbed a hold of his head and leaned back.  “My head hurts.”  
  
Daryl watched as his lover twisted his body around and cracked his spine, his balled up fists digging into the small of his back.  
  
 _You know that move._  
  
 _He’s either too tired to think anymore._  
  
 _Or just plain tired._  
  
Then again, they were all pretty tired.  
  
Tired of killing and clearing and setting traps and erecting blockades.  
  
Day after day, they worked their fingers to the bone.  They were unrelenting in the completion of the tasks they set up for themselves the few hours of daylight they were allotted.  And after they had managed to finish what they set out to do, they would drag themselves back to their beds, after eating only the bare minimum, go to sleep and start all over again the next day.  
  
The good news was that they had managed to clear a good portion of the town.  They set traps and barricades around those cleared areas, making it impervious to any walkers trying to make their way through.  
  
They were taking the town over slowly, one day at a a time.  
  
And now this.  
  
Morgan had taken notice of several walkers, after they had killed them of course, that were _not_ sporting bite marks of any kind.  
  
Which then begged the question of how exactly _did_ they turn?  
  
“Can we please call it a day?” Rick asked as he slumped against the bed of the truck.  
  
“Sounds like a good idea,” Merle said.  “'S me and Morgan’s turn to burn the bodies so we should get started.”  
  
The group nodded and piled the rest of their kill onto the truck bed.  
  
When they had finished, Morgan, Merle and Duane entered the truck’s cab.  
  
“You gonna have dinner waitin’ for us when we git back?” Merle called out, a smug look on his face.  
  
“Can’t we just order a pizza?” Rick whined.  
  
“Heat up your own God-damned soup tonight Merle!” Daryl shouted back.  “Me and Rick’re tired.”  
  
“But I like the way you do it baby brother,” Merle cooed while blowing a kiss before the truck took off for the burn site.  
  
“We need to go huntin,’” Daryl said as he hopped on his bike, Rick settling himself behind him.  “Get us some deer or rabbit or somethin.’”  
  
As Daryl started the bike, Rick placed his arms around his waist.  He smiled as he felt Rick running his hands across his mid-section, tickling the area around his belly button.  
  
 _He wants to play._  
  
Daryl made it back to the safe house in record time, jumping off the bike, Rick following close behind.  They ran through the house (after having secured the front door), Daryl giving playful chase after Rick.  
  
They both stumbled into their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind them and divesting themselves of their shirts and shoes, before they fell onto the bed.   
  
Rick lay back while Daryl straddled his thighs.  He bent down and started placing kisses on his lover’s lips as he trapped Rick’s arms above him.  The kissing became more heated and frantic, both men rutting against each other, Daryl breaking the kissing by nuzzling into Rick’s neck.  
  
 _Need more._  
  
 _Want more._  
  
“God, I wanna fuck you,” Daryl moaned as he bit playfully into Rick’s neck.  
  
Daryl stopped when he realized what he had just said.  He pulled back and stared intently down at his slightly dazed lover.  
  
 _You just had to open your fat mouth, didn’t you?_  
  
“Why don’t you?” Rick asked quietly and swallowed.  
  
 _What?!_  
  
“What?” Daryl asked, his own fog of lustful intentions hoping against all hope that he had heard correctly, yet it was a big step and he wasn’t sure Rick was ready for it.  For this.  
  
 _Yeah, especially if the guy’s never had a cock up his ass before._  
  
Which could very well be the case.  
  
“You sure?  Rick?  You _sure_ you’re okay with this?” Daryl asked as he beheld the wistful face of his lover.  
  
Rick looked searchingly up at Daryl, “why wouldna I be?”  
  
 _Well, that was a loaded question._  
  
“’S a big step is all,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
 _Good answer._  
  
 _Keep it simple._  
  
“I want it.  I want _you._   Ain’t that enough?” Rick asked, his eyes pleading with Daryl silently.  
  
 _Yes.  Yes, it is._  
  
“I’m clean,” Daryl blurted out, his hand coming out to stroke through Rick’s curls.  
  
Rick scrunched his nose.  “We both kinda stink Daryl.  Dunno ‘bout you, but we were draggin walkers onto…”  
  
“Naw, not what I meant,” Daryl said.  “‘M clean.  Haven’t been with anyone for the last three years and I’ve been tested ‘bout twice since then, cause of Merle.”  
  
“Oh,” Rick said, before realization dawned on his face.  “ _Oh!_   Cause of Merle?!” Rick frowned.  
  
“Drugs.  Don’t ask.  Well, not cause I did ‘em.  Like I said, don’t ask,” Daryl babbled, then stopped when a thought hit him.  “And hey!  Not like that!  ‘M not _that_ hillbilly!” Daryl smiled.  
  
“Well, glad you’re clean but dunno ‘bout me,” Rick sulked.  “Don’t wanna take any risks, ‘specially not with you…”  
  
“That thing you had on your wrist,” Daryl said as he indicated the dresser where Rick’s hospital ID had been placed a while back (Rick never having been able to throw it out as it was his only link to who he was).  “It woulda said somethin’ like HIV positive on it.  It don’t.  There was a guy me and Merle knew, when he was in the hospital.”  
  
“The guy with the clap?” Rick asked.  
  
“Naw.  That woulda been fucked for 'im iffen he had,” Daryl said.  “‘Nother guy.  He was HIV positive and his ID said that right next to his blood type.”  
  
“Never thought of that,” Rick said thoughtfully.  “So ‘m clean too?”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl grinned as he leaned over to caress the side of Rick’s face.  
  
“You put alotta thought into this?” Rick smiled.  
  
“Just a little,” Daryl shrugged as he straightened himself back up, his hands sliding down Rick’s chest and stopping at the top of his jeans.  
  
 _If by a little, you meant just about every day._  
  
“So’s all we need is lube.  There’s that Crisco I found in the kitchen,” Rick said.  
  
“Not bakin’ you into a damn cake,” Daryl groused.  “‘Sides, got lube right here,” he said as he leaned over to the nightstand, pulling the drawer open, (upending the prom picture in his haste to open it) and withdrawing a small tube.  
  
“Why look at that!” Rick said.  “You’re like a damn boy scout.  Always come prepared,” Rick laughed.  “What badge would this get you?”  
  
“The ‘I’m gonna fuck you through the mattress’ badge,’” Daryl said as he licked up the side of Rick’s neck.   
  
“We’re really gonna do this,” Rick said softly, yet expectantly.  
  
“Iffen you’re not ready, you can tell me now,” Daryl said.  “’S okay.”  
  
“Well, are you?” Rick asked incredulously.  
  
Daryl thrust his arousal a few times over Rick’s equally hard erection.  “Whaddya think?!  That ain’t my crossbow and ‘m pretty damn sure that ain’t your machete handle you got there.”  
  
“‘M ready.  I just,” Rick sighed and smiled.  “Jus’ go slow.”  
  
“Got all the time in the world now that ’s ended,” Daryl growled as he leaned down and buried his face in Rick’s neck, breathing in his lover’s natural musk.  
  
This was going to be over before it began if he didn’t keep it under control.  
  
Daryl shimmied down Rick’s body and unbuttoned his jeans, yanking so he had hold of both the pants and the briefs, while he slowly dragged them down along his legs and threw them behind him.  He then stood up and did the same with his own jeans, laying himself down over Rick once more, both men completely naked.  
  
Daryl stroked his hand down along Rick’s chest and over his hip bone, running his hand back up to tangle in Rick’s hair.  
  
“I like foreplay just as much as the next guy, at least I think,” Rick swallowed, “but the guys might be home any minute.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re right, we’ll do the foreplay later,” Daryl grinned.    
  
Merle coming home and banging on the bedroom door would certainly kill the mood.  
  
He uncapped the tube and poured a liberal amount of lube onto his fingers.  “This might be a little cold at first,” Daryl warned.  He placed his finger at Rick’s entrance, grazed his lover on the nose and entered slowly.  
  
 _Oh God._  
  
Rick was so _tight._  
  
Daryl chose to ignore what that could possibly mean and continued to thrust his finger inside.  “You okay?”  
  
Rick nodded.  “Feels funny.  Strange.”  
  
“Yeah.”  Daryl placed another finger alongside the other one and continued to open Rick, watching as the other man started squirming and breathing deeper.  “Tell me, iffen it hurts.”  
  
“’S okay now, feels alright,” Rick exhaled as he shifted with the motion of Daryl’s hand.  
  
Daryl added the third finger and dug a bit deeper, trying to find that little bundle of nerves.  He dragged his finger across it and watched as Rick gasped and arched off the bed.  
  
“H _oly fuck!_ ” Rick shouted.  “That was…”  
  
“That was _fuckin’_ hot was what it was,” Daryl growled.  
  
 _Fuck!_  
  
His innate needs, that visceral part deep down within Daryl that screamed at him to just take what he wanted, were starting to take over the rational part of his brain.  He wanted to take Rick right now, bury himself in that tight ass and fuck him until they were both screaming each other’s names.  
  
But he wouldn’t.  
  
He couldn’t.  
  
Because he loved Rick.  
  
And he was going to make sure their first time…  
  
 _Probably Rick’s first time with a man._  
  
Was the most memorable thing ever.  
  
That it was something Rick would look forward to, and not regret.  
  
That he would want this again and again.  
  
“Feels good, huh?” Daryl whimpered, losing it as he looked down at Rick, who was positively _obscene_ in his blissed out state.  
  
Rick was panting heavily, as Daryl continued to plunge his fingers in and out, hitting that bundle of nerves over and over again, his body writhing below him, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead.  Rick uttered some indecipherable words in place of an affirmative answer, while Daryl removed his fingers.  
  
“No!  Don’t!” Rick whined as he grabbed Daryl’s wrist.  “It felt so good.”  
  
“Gonna put somethin’ else there,” Daryl whispered as he situated himself over Rick’s body.  He slathered a generous amount of lube over his cock.  Lifting one of Rick’s legs, he placed it over his shoulder.  He did the same with Rick’s other leg and grabbed onto Rick’s ass.  “Ain’t gonna lie.  ’S prob’ly gonna hurt at first,” Daryl’s low-pitched voice said quietly.  
  
He placed his cock at Rick’s entrance and slowly started to enter.  
  
He thought it had been tight before, when he had been preparing his lover, but _this!_  
  
It was _nothing_ compared to the feeling right now, of being inside Rick.  
  
It was so warm, so tight, so inviting.  
  
So _divine._  
  
Daryl feasted his eyes on his lover, who seemed to be holding his breath.  “Breathe Rick.  Breathe,” he said soothingly, as he ran his hand through his curls lovingly.  
  
Rick gasped as he expelled the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.  
  
“Hurts?” Daryl asked worriedly.  
  
Rick nodded quickly, biting down on his bottom lip.  
  
“Lemme pull out,” Daryl said.  
  
“No!” Rick cried out, “just…just hold on,” he pleaded.  “It hurts but it feels…can you get that spot again?”  
  
Daryl leered depravedly before ramming in quickly, hitting Rick’s prostate.  Rick screamed as he did so, his body arching off the bed once again.  
  
“Oh God,” Rick cried out wantonly.  
  
“See what I mean?” Daryl whispered as he thrust in again, more ferociously this time, hitting that spot that was no doubt making Rick see stars.  
  
He continued to plunge in and out, Rick’s body becoming more and more accommodating.  Daryl watched as his lover’s body writhed beneath him, shuddering in its highly flustered state.  Rick’s head thrashed from side to side on the pillow, as he moaned and whimpered, begging for more.  
  
As Rick’s pleas for ‘more’ and ‘harder’ and faster hit Daryl’s ears, his thrusts accelerated until he was plunging into Rick savagely.  
  
There was nothing he was thinking about anymore.  
  
Not if this was Rick’s first time or his fiftieth.  
  
Not about clearing or burning.  Or the end of the world.  
  
Or even if Merle would walk through that fucking door.  
  
In the here and now, there was only him and Rick.  
  
As Daryl was ramming himself in, he could feel Rick’s legs trembling with the exertion.  
  
“God…so full,” Rick groaned out.  “I can…can feel you,” he gasped.  
  
Rick’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his legs started to shake.  
  
That was when Daryl felt it.  
  
“Fuck Rick! Fuck!” Daryl screamed as Rick came violently.  Rick’s channel became unbelievably _tight,_ a literal vice, as it spasmed around his cock, pulling Daryl in further into Rick’s body as he continued to hammer into him. 

Daryl slammed into Rick even harder, completely undone by his euphoric lover laid out below him.  Rick’s head lay back on the pillow, a look of utter rapture upon his face.  
  
And it was his.  
  
All his.  
  
Rick was his.  
  
Completely.  
  
 _Mine._  
  
 _Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine mine…_  
  
The mantra kept going through his head as he continued to thrust and he came, roaring Rick’s name, convulsing uncontrollably as he filled his lover, marking him as his forever.  
  
Daryl slammed his lips upon Rick’s, lavished his tongue upon his neck, his face, his chest, marking him everywhere he could reach.

Daryl had claimed Rick, inside and out.

Once Daryl had managed to get himself under control again, he started to pull out slowly, Rick whimpering as he did so.  
  
“Sorry,” Daryl winced, as he settled himself next to Rick’s side.  
  
“’S okay,” Rick sighed as he ran his hand through his hair.  
  
They lay next to each other, side by side, as Daryl continued to run his foot along Rick’s lower leg, while his arm pulled Rick in closer.  
  
“God, I love you,” Daryl rumbled softly.  
  
Rick smiled back at Daryl.  “Aww, but I wanted to say it first,” he said playfully.  
  
“You ass,” Daryl laughed back, grabbing Rick’s face and kissing him soundly on the lips.  
  
“I do, you know,” Rick said as he smiled.  “Love you.”  
  
“Good,” Daryl sighed, “cause I ain’t sharin’ you.”  
  
Both men continued to look at each other, quietly drinking the other in, the only sounds in the room that of their soft breathing.  
  
It was after Rick fell asleep, in Daryl’s arms of course, that Daryl wondered now, more than ever, what exactly the other shoe that dropped would be.  
  
It would be only a few days later that that question would be answered, in the form of Dave, Tony and Randall.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Houston, we have consummation!!!
> 
> If you enjoyed this bit, let me know. I really do feel out of practice with the smut part. ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is longer than usual, so, sorry for the wait.

  
  
  
  
Rick’s POV

 

  
  
  
“I don’t see a problem,” Merle said as he spat on the ground, “’s a chicken that don’t lay eggs so’s that means we can eat it.”  
  
“We can’t,” Duane implored, “we ain’t eating Cinnamon.”  
  
“Duane!” Morgan chastised.  
  
“We _aren’t_ eating Cinnamon,” Duane said as he rolled his eyes.  
  
“Now ya see,” Merle said as he held out a finger.  “Tha’s the god-damned problem, right there.  Ya went and named the damn thing.  Once ya name it, ya don’t wanna eat it.  Who the fuckin’ hell names a chicken?!?”  
  
Rick looked down at the ground guiltily, while rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
“I shoulda known!” Merle grumbled as he looked in Rick’s direction.  “You go ‘round namin’ walkers.  Why wouldn’t ya name the food too?!”  
  
“She’ll lay eggs,” Duane urged once again as he addressed Rick and Daryl.  “She’s just not right now.  We need to give her more time.”  
  
Rick looked at Duane and his pleading eyes, so big and brown and…  
  
 _Oh hell._  
  
He then joined the other men as they focused their attention on the Rhode Island Red that sat in the middle of their circle.  
  
Daryl had found the chicken, about a week ago, in the backyard coop of one of the houses they had cleared, the other chickens having long since flown the coop, or more likely, been eaten.  
  
Somehow, during all the chaos, this one managed to stay safe so they had brought it home hoping that it might lay eggs.  Rick had set Duane to feeding it chicken feed and letting it graze on the lawn.    
  
When Duane had remarked about the hen’s beautiful red coloring, Rick had dubbed the chicken ‘Cinnamon.’  
  
Morgan had mentioned that hens tend to lay an egg once every day.  Sometimes, it could even be every other day.  
  
They had sat at the table that night (Cinnamon’s first night as an official part of their group) and discussed how they would decide who would get to eat the egg that the hen would lay the next day.  Merle had suggested arm wrestling, or any kind of wrestling for that matter, which led to ideas about a fight club, which led to a rousing discussion about what the movie 'Fight Club' was really about, which led to them wondering what happened to Helena Bonham Carter.  In the end Morgan pointed out that fighting was not a civilized way to figure out who would get the egg, to which he suggested the group who had the highest kill count for the day would get to decide the fate of the egg, to which Daryl scoffed about how that was _far_ more humane.  
  
But it was all a moot point.  
  
It was now day six and not one egg was to be seen.  
  
“If it ain’t layin’ eggs, then its food,” Merle said.  
  
“You don’t lay eggs,” Duane insisted, “you’re not food.”  
  
“You can bet if I was the kind of thing that was food and that laid eggs, I’da be layin’ eggs once every god-damned hour,” Merle vowed.  “Make sure nobody carved me up and fried my carcass.”  
  
“You would be one sorry lookin’ chicken,” Morgan said.  
  
“’S not like we’re starvin’ here Merle,” Daryl said.  
  
“Yeah,” Morgan said.  
  
“And it could just start spontaneously layin’ eggs,” Rick said.  
  
“Yeah,” Morgan said.   
  
_Sure._  
  
 _Maybe one day it will wake up and remember that it was a chicken and not the family dog._  
  
 _Just like one day you’ll suddenly remember everything about your past life and then…_  
  
 _Then what?_  
  
“Is that all you got to say?” Merle yelled at Morgan.  “Yeah, yeah.  You gotta see this ain’t right.”  
  
“What ain’t right?” Morgan defended.  “We got a chicken that could lay eggs and you wanna eat it when we’re not exactly starvin’ here yet.  Give her some time.”  
  
The group regarded Cinnamon once again, the chicken looking at each one of them in return.  
  
“I think it just laughed at me,” Merle said as he put one hand on his hip and pointed at the hen.  “Think it’s got one up on me.”  
  
“Can we all just stop lookin’ at Cinnamon like she’s a bucket of fried chicken?” Duane urged.  “Daddy’s right.  We need to give her time.”  
  
“Maybe space.  I mean, I sure as hell couldn’t lay a egg with everyone watchin’ me,” Morgan shrugged.  
  
“That is the most _dumbest_ thing I’ve ever heard,” Merle jeered.  “And I oughta know.  I’ve said a lot of dumb things.”  
  
Daryl looked at Rick, both men smiling at each other.  “I think we can give Cinnamon some more time.”  
  
“Suppose you assholes wanna bring in a…a _poultry_ whisperer next,” Merle grumbled.  
  
“Aw Merle.  You could do it,” Daryl teased.  “Jus’ treat her like ya used to treat all the ladies you hit on at the bars every Friday night.  ‘Member how well that worked for you?  Oh wait, maybe you shouldn’t,” Daryl started laughing.  
  
“Tha’s right baby brother.  Laugh at ole Merle,” he pouted.  He turned to the chicken and pointed at it.  “You better start layin’ god-damned eggs or I’m gonna fricassee your ass.”  
  
“Don’t worry Duane,” Daryl said.  “He’s all talk.  He won’t touch her.”  
  
Rick shook his head before turning to Daryl, “it figures.  We get a chicken and ’s got issues.”  
  
“Prob’ly lonely,” Daryl mused.  “Needs some hen friends.”  
  
“I’ll jus’ check that chicken dating site on-line,” Rick said.  
  
Daryl chuckled with Rick as they walked toward the backdoor of the house.    
  
“Hey Rick!  You’re walkin’ more bow-legged than usual,” Merle hollered.  
  
When Rick turned to regard the older Dixon, Merle winked at him.  
  
 _Oh fuck._  
  
 _Did everyone know?_  
  
And as if the universe decided to answer Rick’s silent question, Morgan ran over and joined the conversation, a devilish grin upon his face.  “You do seem to have a small hitch in your step Hop-along.”  
  
“Aw, you hens stay here with the other hen.  You’all just jealous!” Daryl squawked, “of what Rick and I got and what we get up to.”  
  
“Hey now, don’t have to be hearin’ ‘bout that,” Merle mocked indignantly.  “Think of the children,” he said as he looked down at Duane, who happened to be holding Cinnamon.  
  
“Like I don’t know what goes on in their bedroom,” he said as he shook his head and walked away, Morgan laughing as he followed his son inside.  
  
Merle looked at Rick and Daryl as they reached for the door.  “Go on in, ladies first,” he smiled.  
  
Rick and Daryl both groaned and went to walk inside, Merle following close behind, “I can see what you like ‘bout his ass, baby brother.”  
  
“Merle, shut the fuck up,” Daryl groused.  “And stop lookin’ at Rick’s ass.”  
  
“Wish we’d stop talking ‘bout my ass…and my stupid walk,” Rick grumbled.  
  
“Hey you guys wanna go to the cafe?  Have a drink?” Merle asked as they all entered the house and locked the door.  “Morgan?”  
  
“Naw, ‘m gonna play some Battleship with Duane,” Morgan said.  
  
“Daryl?  How’s ‘bout it.  Take Rick with you.  It’ll be like takin’ your girl out on the town,” Merle said as he swished his hips back and forth.  
  
“Right here Merle,” Rick groused.  
  
“We should go,” Daryl said as he kicked Rick’s leg.  “I wanna drink.”  
  
“Yeah, sure, okay,” Rick said.  
  
“’S a date then,” Daryl smiled.  
  
“Fuck you,” Rick said back, a smile on his lips.  
  
“When you wanna go Merle?” Daryl asked.  
  
“‘Bout an hour,” Merle said.  “Don’t you girls be late.”  
  
Rick and Daryl made their way up the flight of stairs to their room, Rick shucking off his shirt and jeans, then falling face first onto the bed.  
  
He didn’t seem to care about what the others were saying about him and the way he might have been ‘walking funny’ lately.  
  
After all, since that night, Daryl had fucked him about three more times.  
  
One of those times had been at the shower in the public works department.  It had been hard and fast, Rick’s forehead and arms braced against the tiles as Daryl rammed into him from behind.  
  
Another time, Daryl had woken him up from a particularly nasty nightmare, Rick begging his lover to take him then, so he could forget the images he had just awoken from.  That time it had been slow and tender, Daryl murmuring words into Rick’s ear about how he loved being inside him, how he wanted to be there forever, how beautiful he was.  
  
About how much he loved him.  
  
He could swear he could still feel Daryl in him.  
  
He was sore.   
  
His bow-legged gait was more pronounced.  
  
And he _loved_ it.  
  
It was a burn that soothed his mind at night.  
  
It consoled him during the day when they were shooting at walkers or clearing buildings.  
  
It made him want more.  
  
It made him want Daryl.  
  
But, hell, if it wasn’t starting to hurt just a little bit.  
  
“I think you broke me,” Rick muttered into the pillow.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Daryl said, as he came out in fresh jeans, hanging unzipped on his hips.  He kneeled behind Rick on the bed, running his hands over his back, kneading the muscles there.  
  
Rick could feel his lover bend down and start to kiss his back, slowly going lower until he came to the waistband of his briefs.  
  
“You are _not_ goin’ there tonight.  ‘Sides, we’re gonna meet Merle soon,” Rick said.  
  
“Not gonna fuck you, jus’ wanna see,” he said as he slipped the underwear down Rick’s narrow hips.  
  
Rick shuddered as he felt Daryl’s breath on his ass cheeks, right before his lover bit him on one of those cheeks.  
  
“Don’t,” Rick chuckled as tried to buck Daryl off.  
  
“Stay still, lemme see,” Daryl whispered.  
  
Rick breathed in as he felt the cold air of the room hit his bottom as Daryl pulled his cheeks apart to look at his entrance.  
  
“’S all red.  Sorry,” he said as he laid Rick’s bottom down once more on the bed.  
  
“’S okay,” Rick scoffed, “if ‘m gonna be sore, I’d rather it be cause of you.”  
  
“Glad I picked this up,” Daryl said as he reached over to the nightstand and fished out a small jar of salve.    
  
Rick sighed as he felt the cool ointment as it was applied by Daryl’s fingers over his entrance.  
  
“That better?” Daryl rumbled softly.  
  
Rick gasped in pleasure, as Daryl’s fingers kept going over his abused hole.  He started to rock his hips against the bed as Daryl started to plunge his fingers inside of him.  
  
He was fucking the bed and moaning as Daryl growled above him, “Fuck!  You can’t help but turn me on.”  
  
“Said you weren’t gonna fuck me,” Rick teased with a smile right before Daryl hit a sensitive spot, Rick making small whimpering noises.  
  
“Yeah I know,” Daryl muttered.  “You wanna come?” Daryl’s pleading voice whispered.  
  
“You have to ask?” Rick laughed right before he felt Daryl plunge his fingers in farther, moaning as he could feel the fingers digging deeper.  
  
Rick continued to fuck the bed while Daryl fingered him more aggressively, using the salve to do so.  He then felt Daryl’s hard cock as it ran along one ass cheek.  
  
It didn’t take long before he felt himself let go and he came, quaking as he released onto the bed below him.  He felt Daryl shaking above him as he too found his release.  
  
Rick was sticky where he lay, and Daryl’s come was quickly cooling where it pooled on his skin, but he felt so relaxed, so tranquil, so _light,_ like he was floating on soft, puffy clouds, that he didn’t really care about the other discomforts.  
  
“Fuck, I needed that,” Daryl moaned, as he lay down next to Rick on the bed.  Rick popped himself up one one elbow and looked down at his lover.  
  
“’S not like we haven’t been goin’ at it every chance we get,” Rick smiled.  
  
“Yeah, but now that I’ve had you, I don’t wanna stop,” Daryl said.  “’S like ‘m makin’ up for all that lost time and you’re fuckin’ addictive,” he said as he reached over and ran one hand along Rick’s hip.  
  
“Then I guess we better keep that stuff on hand,” Rick chuckled as pointed to the salve.  “Thanks…for that.  Feels better now,” he said as he kissed Daryl’s forehead.  
  
“You might be numb there for awhile,” Daryl winced.  “Prob’ly used more than I should’ve.”  
  
“You know,” Rick said hesitantly, “we can avoid this problem in the future…”  
  
“Iffen you’re gonna say to use the salve as lube, don’t.  It’ll make my damn cock numb,” Daryl said, before he became serious and shot upright, “unless you’re already regrettin’ being with me.”  
  
“No!  No,” Rick shrugged, “jus’ I dunno…I could return the favor, you know.”  
  
“Oh!  Well, _fuck yeah!_ ” Daryl smiled.  
  
“Yeah?  You’re okay with that?” Rick asked as he bit his lip.  
  
“You toppin’ me?  Yeah,” Daryl said.  “I was jus’ waitin’ to see if you were interested.  I ain’t greedy.”  
  
Rick smiled as he leaned into Daryl, slowly kissing him on the lips, before pushing his tongue inside.    
  
Thoughts of making Daryl feel the way his lover made Rick feel when he fucked him, marking him as his, were making him dizzy.  
  
Daryl rolled Rick over playfully, nuzzling along his neck and jawline, before Daryl hovered over Rick, both pairs of blue eyes gazing intently at each other.  Both men were silently conversing in a language only they were privy to, as they regarded one another.  
  
Words like ‘need’ and ‘want’ and ‘safe’ were bandied about, neither of them ever having to say them out loud again.  
  
“You lovebirds ready yet or what?!” Merle shouted on the other side of the door.  
  
“Hold your goddamn horses Merle!” Daryl shouted back.  
  
The phrase ‘Merle can be a douche bag’ never needed to be said out loud as well as Rick and Daryl smiled at each other.  
  
“Le’s go,” Daryl said as he hoisted himself up, helping Rick up in the process.  Both men made themselves presentable before opening the door and joining Merle for that drink.  
  
The three men made their way to the cafe in the truck.    
  
Entering the establishment, Merle looked over at the juke box.  “I can’t fuckin’ wait for the day when we git rid of enough of them damn walkers so we can try startin’ that thing back up again.”  
  
“’S good selection on there too,” Daryl said as he made his way over to a table with a bottle of Jack Daniels and some shot glasses.  
  
“Maybe I can strut my stuff again,” Merle said as he shuffled his way over to the table, stopping and pivoting as if he were John Travolta himself.  
  
“God, ‘m trying to imagine Merle dancin’ in my head,” Rick grimaced as he took a long swig out of a glass, “and no, I can’t rightly say I see it.”  
  
“Oh, he was somethin’ alright, in his day,” Daryl laughed as he took a drink.  
  
“Whaddya mean, ‘in his day?!’  I still got it,” Merle huffed as he threw back a shot of whiskey.  
  
“Hey!  What the fuck you been doin’ at the sheriff’s station Merle?” Daryl asked as he nodded to Rick, a smile on his face.  “You gotta record in this town you ain’t tellin’ me ‘bout?  Afraid we’ll find some file on you?”  
  
Merle turned slightly serious.  “Maybe I was there takin’ the last of the hot water.  You ever think of that Darlina?” he pouted.  
  
“Naw, me and Rick took the last of it ‘fore you were hunting about in there,” Daryl said as he waved his hand away.  
  
“Aha!” Merle shouted.  “ _Knew_ it was you two!  Morgan blamed me.”  
  
“So,” Daryl said, “what _were_ you lookin’ for?  You were lookin’ for something in there…’bout you, right?  What was it?  Come on.  You don’t care what we know 'bout you now, do you?”  
  
“Maybe I do,” Merle sulked.  “Maybe I don’t want you guys to know the things I been up to.”  
  
Rick held up his glass, “here’s to not knowin’ what fucked up shit Merle’s been up to.”  
  
“I can drink to that,” Daryl laughed and threw back a shot.  
  
“Can drink to that too,” Merle mumbled.  
  
“And here’s to Cinnamon,” Daryl chuckled as he held up the glass. “May she lay a god-damned egg so’s we can all fight over it.”  
  
“And here’s to more chickens!” Rick toasted while grinning.  “Egg-layin’ ones!”  
  
“Iffen we get more chickens,” Merle stopped to throw back his shot, “whaddya gonna name ‘em?”  
  
“I dunno,” Rick said deep in thought.  “What other condiments are there?”  
  
“Sage, rosemary and thyme,” Daryl sang out, the other two men snickering before joining him in the old tune.  
  
“And here’s to more good fuckin’ whiskey!” Merle hollered as he held up the bottle, pouring another round of shots.  
  
Just then the door to the cafe opened, two men walking in.  
  
“Son of a bitch, they’re alive,” one of them said.  
  
 _This can’t be good._  
  
Something pinged on Rick’s radar, he didn’t know what it was, but these men didn’t look like the type of people that worked well with others.  
  
 _Well, apparently Merle didn’t either, but you trust him._  
  
A silent war was going on within Rick’s head, something that was telling him these men were not to be trusted.  
  
That there was something severely wrong with them.  
  
It was a gut reaction.  
  
Like the one he had with Daryl, that allowed him to trust and confide in the man.  
  
But this one was positively _screaming_ at him.  
  
It was telling him to be on guard.  To never let either one of them out of his sight.  
  
He looked over at Daryl, all the while keeping a calm face on.  
  
Daryl didn’t seem to like the party crashers either.  
  
Glancing at Merle, he wasn’t too fond of them as well.  
  
“I’m Dave,” the thinner of the two said.  He had a cut off shirt and gold jewelry adorning his neck and ears.  His accent was definitely East Coast.  “That scrawny douche bag over there is Tony,” he said as he pointed to the rather portly man who made himself at home against the bar.  He also had a thick gold chain around his neck.  
  
“Eat me Dave,” Tony chuckled, while Dave muttered something like, ‘maybe later.’  
  
Definitely East Coast.  
  
Maybe New Jersey.   
  
“We met on I-95 coming out of Philly.  Damn shit show that was,” Dave said as he leaned over and poured himself some of the whiskey.    
  
New Jersey, Philadelphia.  Same thing.  
  
The boys looked like they had both been around the block, even _before_ the apocalypse had hit.  
  
“Merle,” the older Dixon nodded and then pointed to Daryl, “my brother Daryl over there.  And tha’s Rick,” he finished as he nodded to Rick.  
  
The man named Tony laughed.  “Remember that show?  Newhart?”  Tony said in a poor imitation of a Southern accent.  “This is my brother Daryl, this is my other brother, Daryl.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dave laughed, all the while looking directly at Rick and the Dixon brothers.  
  
Rick figured Dave knew Tony hadn’t ingratiated himself with that little hillbilly joke.  
  
“Well, here’s to better days and new friends,” Dave said, as he toasted everyone.  “And to our dead, may they be in a better place.”  
  
Dave drank down his drink and leaned over, Rick noting the gun sticking out of the back of his jeans.  
  
“Not bad huh?  I got it off a cop,” Dave said, adding when he heard how quiet it had gotten.  “A dead one.”  
  
The hair on the back of Rick’s neck was standing at attention now.  
  
“You guys ‘re a long way from Philadelphia,” Rick said.  
  
“We’re a long way from anywhere,” Dave said as he regarded the glass of whiskey.  
  
“What drove you south?” Rick asked.  
  
“Well, I can tell you it wasn’t the weather,” Dave said.  “I must’ve dropped thirty pounds in sweat alone driving down here.”  
  
“I wish,” Tony scoffed.  
  
Rick knew Merle was keeping an eagle eye on Tony the whole time, while Daryl seemed to be riveted onto Dave.  
  
“No, first it was DC,” Dave said.  “Heard there was some kind of refugee camp but the roads were so jammed, we never even got close.  We decided to get off the highways, into the sticks, keep hauling ass.  Every group we came across had a new rumor about a way out of this thing.”  
  
“One guy told us there was a coast guard center in the gulf, sending ferries to the islands,” Tony said, his accent so thick, so _Jersey,_ Rick wondered where the other ‘wise guys’ were hiding.  He almost expected Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci to pop up and start making deals with him.  
  
“The latest was a rail yard in Montgomery,” Dave said, “running trains to the middle of the country.  Kansas.  Nebraska.”  
  
“Nebraska?” Daryl said.  
  
“Low population.  Lots of guns,” Tony said.  
  
“Kinda makes sense,” Daryl shrugged.  
  
“You ever been to Nebraska?” Dave asked.  “The reason they call ‘em flyover states,” he said while Tony laughed.  
  
“You boys don’t look like you ever been west of the Mississippi river,” Tony laughed as he regarded Merle and Daryl.  He then hummed the beginning riff from the ‘dueling banjos’ song.  
  
“What about Fort Benning,” Merle asked as he sneered at Tony.  “I hear some people going there.”  
  
“I hate to piss in your cornflakes my friend, but we ran across a grunt who was stationed at Benning. He said the place was overrun by lamebrains,” Dave said, trying to be sincere, but failing miserably.  
  
“Wait, you sayin' Fort Benning is _gone?_   For real?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Sadly I am,” Dave said.  “Ugly truth is, there is no way out of this mess.  Just keep going from one pipe dream to the next, praying one of these mindless freaks doesn’t grab a hold of you when you sleep.”  
  
“If you sleep,” Tony cut in.  
  
 _They’re fishing._  
  
“Yeah, what about you guys?” Dave asked, trying for casual, but missing by a mile.  
  
 _And now he’s trying to reel you in._  
  
“We’re passin’ through,” Rick lied as he nodded.  “Lookin’ for supplies.  This town is picked pretty clean.”  
  
“That your truck outside?” Dave asked.  
  
“Yeah, why?” Daryl nodded.  
  
“Where’s all your gear?  Me and Tony are living in our cars,” Dave said.  
  
 _And he just keeps casting that line…_  
  
“We’re with a larger group,” Daryl cut in.  “Scoutin’ out for supplies.”  
  
“We’re thinking of setting up around here.  Is it safe?” Dave asked.  
  
“Naw, there’s a lot of walkers,” Rick shrugged.  “We had to kill a lotta ‘em just to get here ourselves.”  
  
“Walkers?  That what you call them?” Dave said.  “That’s good.  I like that.  I like that better than lamebrains.”  
  
“More succinct,” Tony said.  
  
“Okay.  Tony went to college,” Dave smiled.  
  
“Two years,” Tony supplied.  
  
“You learn big fancy words like that in clown college?” Merle jeered, Tony frowning at the insult.  
  
“Yeah,” Dave continued, ignoring the banter coming from the others, “I’m thinking, Rick, that you’re not part of some bigger group.  You’re not scouting.  I’m thinking those burned walker bodies out there, you guys did that.  Along with the traps set up around town.  You guys have been busy little beavers,” he finished as he pointed his finger admonishingly at Rick.  
  
“Beaver,” Tony laughed as he walked over to the juke box and urinated right on the spot.  
  
 _Well if that isn’t a sign of things to come._  
  
It was getting more clear by the second that these two men were not on the level and Merle and Daryl were right there with him on that thought.  
  
“You have food?  Water?” Dave asked.  
  
“You got any cooze around here?  Haven’t had any for weeks,” Tony chuckled.  “Or do you boys just hump on each other.  You know.  ‘Squeal like a pig,’” Tony laughed again as he made humping motions in the air.  
  
“Seriously.  Is ‘Deliverance’ the only movie you’ve ever watched ‘bout the South?!” Rick scoffed.  
  
“Listen, pardon my friend,” Dave winced.  “City kids.  They got no tact.  No disrespect.  So about this town…”  
  
“We do a lot of work to clear the place.  Dunno if we’ll ever be rightly done,” Rick said matter-of-factly.  
  
“Bet you could use some help,” Dave rationalized.  
  
“No.  We got it,” Rick said.  
  
“But you just said it's a lot of work, we could help,” Dave said as he pointed to himself.  “We got some buddies back at camp.  They could help.”  
  
“We’re not lookin’ for any new people.  We’re only gonna clear what we need to,” Merle said.  
  
Rick knew it was only a matter of time before Merle lost it and would attack.  
  
“You got it pretty sweet here.  Don’t it seem sweet Tony?” Dave said, looking at Rick the whole time.  
  
“Yeah real sweet,” Tony said.  
  
“How about a little southern hospitality?” Dave asked.  “I don’t see why you can’t make room for a few more.”  
  
“This one here’ll prob’ly eat everythin,’” Merle said as he looked directly at Tony.  “Then again, might not be a bad idea, iffen we run low on supplies, we could _eat_ Tony.”  
  
Ignoring the current conversation, Dave stayed focused on Rick, “we could pool our resources, our manpower.  
  
“Look, I’m sorry.  Tha’s not an option,” Rick said, holding his ground.  
  
And what shaky ground it was at the moment.  
  
“Doesn’t sound like this would be a problem,” Dave said insistently, his good natured rapport slowly becoming unhinged.  
  
“Sorry,” Rick said.  
  
“Yeah sorry,” Daryl said, keeping his eyes on Dave.  
  
“You guys are something else.  I thought we were friends,” Dave said.  
  
There was no question about it.  
  
His instinct was correct.  
  
This would not end well.  
  
For at least _one_ of their groups.  
  
“We got people we gotta look out for too,” Dave said.  
  
“We don’t know anythin’ ‘bout you,” Rick said.  
  
“You’all should jus’ head on out, this ain’t no Jersey Shore,” Merle grumbled.  
  
“This is _bullshit,_ ” Tony said as he started to pace.  
  
“Calm down,” Rick said as he looked at the man.  
  
“Don’t tell me to calm down.  Don’t _ever_ tell me to calm down,” Tony scowled at Rick.  
  
“Whoa,” Dave said quickly, trying to intercede.  
  
“I’ll shoot you three assholes in the head and take your damn town!” Tony said.  
  
Everyone stopped as Merle brought his gun up and Daryl’s crossbow was aimed straight for Tony.    
  
Dave jumped up to the bar.  “Whoa!  Whoa!  Whoa!  Whoa!  Relax.  Take it easy.  Nobody’s _killing_ anybody.  Nobody’s _shooting_ anybody.  Right Rick?”  Dave jumped over the bar, Rick hearing Tony’s gun cocking behind him, while Merle and Daryl got into position, following Tony’s movements the whole time.  “Look,” Dave said as he put his gun down slowly on the bar, all the while watching Rick intently.  “We’re just friends, having a drink, that’s all.”  
  
Dave looked around the bar, asking where the good stuff was.  “Good stuff.  Good stuff.  Good stuff.  Let’s see,” he said as he held up a bottle.  “That’ll work.  You gotta understand we can’t stay out there,” he said as he poured a drink.  
  
“Yeah I do, but you’ll jus’ have to keep on lookin,’” Rick said, watching Dave closely.  
  
“Where do you suggest I do that?” Dave asked.  
  
“I dunno.  Hear Nebraska’s nice,” Rick said.  
  
Dave laughed mockingly.  “Nebraska.  This guy,” he said as he went for his gun.  
  
Before anybody knew what was happening, Rick went for his Python, shooting Dave in the chest, blood spraying the mirror behind him.  He then turned rapidly around before anyone else could do anything, shooting Tony twice, once in the chest and once in the head.  
  
“Well, now,” Merle said, a look of surprise and grudging respect on his face, “nice shootin’ Tex.”  
  
“Did I just do that?” Rick asked, completely astonished.  
  
Rick looked at the two downed men.  
  
“‘M startin’ to rethink that whole Bourne Identity spy thing,” Daryl said, dumbstruck as well.  
  
It appeared he had killer instincts and ridiculously fast reflexes.  
  
It was something new, and a little formidable, to learn about himself.  
  
But he _liked_ it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the conversation between Rick and Dave was taken from the episode 'Nebraska' from Season 2, but spiced up with my own take on things (read: my irreverence).
> 
> Cinnamon is all my doing and she should have her own tag...


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so some trigger warnings here. There will be some torture here, but only basically what you saw in Season 2, when Daryl had been interrogating Randall. If you're a follower of the show, then you know what to expect there. 
> 
> Also, just trust me. I haven't steered you wrong yet...I think. ;P

  
  
  
  
Daryl’s POV

  
  
His hand was getting tired.   
  
_Really,_ fucking tired.  
  
And his knuckles were literally torn to shreds, cracking and bleeding the more he hit the young man tied up on the floor in front of him.  
  
The kid’s name was Randall.  
  
Rick had saved him after he had fallen off a roof and landed none too gently.  
  
Of course, he had been on the roof _shooting_ at Rick, his numbskull brother and himself at the time.  
  
But Rick had saved him and brought him back to the house.  Specifically , the garage that was attached to the house.  
  
After the whole cafe incident involving the boys from Jersey, Dave and Tony, four of their group had come to town looking for the aforementioned men.  After realizing what had happened to them, courtesy of Merle and a resounding ‘Fuck you!  We killed your asshole friends,’ and having not taken kindly to their friends being killed, and possibly not taking kindly to them being referred to as ‘assholes,’ the four men opened fire on the Dixon brothers and Rick.  
  
Rick had taken one of the shooters out while Daryl had managed to get another.  Another took off in a truck, deciding that the young man who had been injured wasn’t really worth saving.  
  
It would only be a matter of time before Randall’s group, or more precisely, Dave and Tony’s group, started coming to town, either looking for revenge or just looking for a new place to hang their hat.  
  
So they needed to be ready.  
  
They needed to know what they were up against.  
  
Whether they needed to cut their losses and run, or whether they could make a stand, they needed to know.  
  
Daryl had decided he would be the one to get the information out of the kid (by any means possible) as he wasn’t too keen on letting Merle doing it.   
  
He knew his brother.  Merle would probably kill him.   
  
And as for Rick?  
  
Well, Daryl took it upon himself to take his lover out of the equation.  
  
He wasn’t sure if Rick was up to something like this.  Up to getting his hands dirty, literally, inflicting pain on someone while giving them the third degree.  
  
Some people would call it _torture._  
  
And Daryl had to admit, those people would be correct.  
  
It was torture, plain and simple.  
  
And despite the fact that Rick had shown amazing reaction time, namely in the area of shooting, and some very survival oriented intuition, he didn’t want to test him anymore than necessary.  
  
Because it appeared that his lover, and at this point he could call him what he truly was, his _soulmate,_ had many sides to him.  
  
Many, many sides.  
  
But putting Rick through subjecting torment and suffering on someone?  
  
Daryl wasn’t ready to test those waters _just_ yet.  
  
Besides, he needed to do this.  
  
He needed to hit something.  He needed to get it out of his system.  
  
“It’ being the fact that he could still hear the shots ringing out as Dave and Tony both went for their guns, Rick in the crossfire.  Never mind the fact that Daryl’s heart had skipped a beat or two at that moment in time.  
  
Actually, he was pretty sure his heart had stopped altogether at that second.  
  
Merle had his sights set on Tony and Daryl had his set on Dave the whole exchange back at the bar.  The way Dave kept watching Rick closely, movement for movement, it unnerved Daryl in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.  
  
Maybe ever.  
  
The fact that Rick was on the same page as he and Merle gave him hope.  It meant that Rick wasn’t fool hardy.  He knew when his gut instinct was telling him something was wrong.  
  
And there was indeed something wrong with Dave and Tony.  
  
So however much the relief he had felt when it was Rick who had been the victor in the impromptu showdown, thereby setting his heart beating again, easing his troubled mind over the fact that he had almost lost his soulmate, despite all that, he still felt the need to lash out, to ravage and lay waste to someone, _especially_ that someone who was connected to the threat to their little group.  
  
Which brought him back to Randall.  
  
“I told you,” Randall cried out as Daryl hit him again, the full force of his swing making the kid’s head hit the wall behind him.  
  
“You ain’t told me _shit!_ ” Daryl spat out as he hit the kid in the face.  
  
“I barely knew those guys,” he stammered.  “I met ‘em on the road.”  
  
“How many in your group?” Daryl asked again as he took out his knife.  
  
“No.  No.  No.  No.  Come on man,” Randall pleaded before screaming as Daryl brought the knife down, very close to his leg.  
  
“ _How many!?_ ” Daryl bellowed as he held the knife threateningly.  
  
“Thirty…thirty guys,” Randall whimpered.  
  
_Kid’s smart._  
  
_Making you think there’s more of them than there probably is._  
  
_Or there really is thirty and that whole idea of cutting and running was looking more probable._  
  
“Where?” Daryl asked as he slowly peeled off the bandage Morgan had dressed Randall with, the young man having hurt his leg severely in the process of falling off the roof.  
  
“I don’t know. I swear!  We were never anyplace more ’n a night,” Randall stammered out again, watching as Daryl was poised over his wound.  
  
“Scoutin?’  Stayin’ local?” Daryl asked angrily.  
  
“I don’t know.  They left me behind,” Randall stated in defeat.  
  
_He’s hiding something._  
  
“Didja ever pick off a scab?” Daryl asked menacingly.  
  
He hated this, but the kid knew something.   
  
Something big.  
  
Something that affected more than just Daryl’s small group or the future of the town they were building.  
  
“Come on man?!” Randall whimpered again.  “I’m tryin’ to cooperate.”  
  
Daryl ignored the young man’s pleas.  “Start real slow at first.  Sooner or later…you’ve just gotta rip it off,” he said as he grabbed one end of the wound, making to do just as he had promised.  
  
“Okay.  Okay.  They have weapons…heavy stuff, automatics,” Randall acceded, turning pleading eyes onto his captor.  “But I didn’t do _anythin.’_ ”  
  
“You and your boys shot at me and _my_ boys…tried to take this town,” Daryl growled.  “You jus’ went along for the ride.  You’re tryin’ to tell me you’re innocent?!”  
  
_Innocent like hell._  
  
_The look in those eyes are anything but innocent._  
  
_You’ve seen that detached look before._  
  
“Yes!  These people took me in…not just guys…a whole group of ‘em.  Men and women…kids too,” Randall jabbered.  
  
Daryl knew Randall hadn’t come from up north.  He knew he had been local.   
  
His accent was Georgia through and through.  
  
“Thought I’d have a better chance with them, you know?” Randall continued haltingly.  “But we go out to…to scavenge, just the men.  One night, we found this little campsite.  A man and his two daughters…teenagers you know?” Randall said, and at this point, Daryl noted the way the young man’s voice started to change.  No longer was he the stammering fool.  He seemed more adrift, as if lost in remembrance.  “Real young, _real cute,_ ” he said as his voice sounded almost fond.  “Their daddy had to watch while these guys…they…they didn’t even kill him afterwards just made him watch as his daughters,” he said as he swallowed, “they just left him there,” he said far away again, then noticed the look of anger in Daryl’s eyes.  “No!  But…but…but I didn’t _touch_ those girls.  No I swear I didn’t!”  
  
Daryl kicked the boy a few more times, several solid, unyielding kicks, Randall groaning as he did so.  
  
_Yeah, right, as if you believe he didn’t touch those girls._  
  
The kid disgusted him.  
  
He had been a deviant no doubt before the world had ended.   
  
And now, after society had broken down, he had the chance to take advantage of it.  
  
Daryl kicked him with more force that time.  
  
“Please, you gotta believe me man.  I ain’t like that!  Please!  You gotta believe me!” he kept groaning as Daryl continued to kick him and hit him, his knuckles hurting from the exertion, as he could feel them continue to crack open.  
  
Just then, Morgan came running in.  “Daryl!  Daryl!  For the love of God!  _Stop!_ ”  
  
Daryl still had one more question to ask.  
  
The most important one.  
  
“Where’s the fuckin’ camp!?” Daryl shouted at the boy’s face.  
  
“I don’t know.  _I swear!_ ” Randall sobbed.  “They left me!  _They left me_!”  
  
“Fuck this!” Daryl yelled as he stormed away from the young man, pacing back and forth while he watched Morgan tend to Randall’s injuries.  
  
“Has everyone lost their minds?!” Morgan shouted, grimacing in disgust.  “Torture?!  Is this what we’re ‘bout now?  This boy don’t look much older ’n Duane.”  
  
“Please, you gotta believe me,” Randall pleaded with Morgan, Daryl knowing he would try to appeal to the member of the group who seemed to have a soft spot.  
  
“I know son, I know,” Morgan murmured, then quickly rounded on Daryl furiously, “kitchen!  Now!”  
  
Daryl stomped angrily to the attached door and into the kitchen, Morgan following behind him, slamming the door so hard, it didn’t quite latch all the way.  
  
“What have we come to?!” Morgan yelled at the group gathered within.  
  
“He knows something!’” Daryl wailed back just as loudly, their voices no doubt carrying into the garage.  “Somethin’ he ain’t telling us!” Daryl yelled again at the door leading to the garage, making sure Randall knew he hadn’t believed any of his story.  
  
“We have to…to do this,” Rick said as he regarded Morgan.  “We need to know where this camp is.  We need to attack first.  What did you find out?” he asked as he addressed Daryl.  
  
Daryl looked intently at Rick, taking note of how much the whole ordeal, everything from what he had been forced to do and what he would be forced to carry out sooner or later, was taking out of his lover.  “Thirty men.  Heavy artillery.  Camp somewhere.  He says there’s women and kids…I dunno though.”  
  
“Fuck!” Rick lamented in exasperation.  “We need to find out ‘bout that camp.”  
  
“You could let me,” Merle called out.  “I’ll find out for you.”  
  
“You’d kill him, Merle,” Daryl said.  “Still need the little fucker.”  
  
“Daryl’s right,” Rick said.  “I’ll do it.”  Then under his breath, “I’ll do a good cop, bad cop thang.  Maybe get ‘im to trust me.”  
  
“Dunno ‘bout that Rick,” Daryl said under his breath, then yelling as he banged on the doorjamb, “fuckin’ kid’s _thick!_ ”  
  
“Better than _torturing_ him!” Morgan bellowed.  “We’re better than that here!”  
  
“Fuck you!” Daryl barked as he walked up to Morgan.  
  
“Daryl!” Rick exclaimed crossly.  He then walked to the door, looking back at both Daryl and Morgan.  
  
Entering the garage, Rick squatted down so he was at eye level with Randall.  “Suppose you heard all that?”  
  
Randall first nodded ‘no,’ then ‘yes,’ obviously realizing it was probably a bad idea to start lying at this point in time.   
  
“Look, you say your hands are clean in all this,” Rick said intently, yet sincerely, to the young man.  “So, why don’t you show us where this camp is, we’ll handle the other group.  You can stay here…with us.”  
  
“Yeah right!” Randall scoffed.  “I take you there.  They see me and they’ll _kill_ me.  Kill you.  Then you,” Randall spat at Daryl.  “Then your brother ’n then the rest of you.”  
  
“Thought you said they’re women and kids there,” Rick said.  “They okay with that sorta thing?”  
  
Randall sighed before swallowing and focusing his attention on Rick.  “Look, these guys, you don’t wanna mess with ‘em.  You should just take your shit and leave.  They’ll kill you.  All of you.”  
  
“So you keep sayin,’” Rick sighed and stood up.  He looked down at the kid.  “What is it you ain’t tellin’ us Randall?”  
  
“Fuck you!  I told you everything!” Randall screamed out.  
  
“Okay,” Rick said in resignation.  “Don’t wanna do this.  Daryl?”  
  
Daryl stopped his pacing in the back and walked up to Randall, only one command running through his brain.  
  
_Inflict more pain._  
  
“No more!”  Randall begged.  “No more!”  
  
“‘Member what I said I’d do to that scab?” Daryl growled as he grabbed one end of the kid’s wound and started to yank.  
  
“Oh God!  No!” Randall cried out hysterically.  “There…there ain’t no women and kids!  Okay?  There ain’t no… _oh God_ …please don’t…there ain’t no women or kids.”  
  
Daryl watched Randall’s face as he spilled his latest confession.  
  
It was the truth.  
  
But there was a lie hidden in there too.  
  
“Thirty men…what about that,” Daryl said as he made to yank the scab yet again.  
  
“Whaddya mean,” Randall stammered as he shook his head back and forth, Daryl yanking once again, before Randall started sobbing.  “Okay…okay.  More like fifteen now.  After you guys took out the four.  Please…”  
  
Rick got into Randall’s face again, tilting his head to the side to regard the young man.  This time there was no ‘good cop,’ no reasonable Rick.  
  
It was more like bad cop and psycho cop this time around.  
  
And Daryl wasn’t sure which of them was playing the part of psycho cop.  
  
Rick snarled, “where is the camp Randall?”  
  
“Fuck you!” Randall screamed at Rick, looking quickly in Daryl’s direction.  “They’d do worse to me iffen I said anything!”  
  
“Where.  Is.  The.  Camp?” Rick said deliberately while he grabbed hold of Randall’s leg and viciously dug his finger into the young man’s wound.  
  
“I can’t,” Randall shrieked before sobbing brokenly.  “I can’t.”  
  
Daryl looked at Rick’s face.  
  
The disgust, shame and distaste of what he had to do was reflected back in the hard stare of his eyes.  
  
That answered _that_ question.  
  
Rick would do what needed to be done, but it would not leave him unaffected.  
  
His lover was strong, unwavering, tenacious.  
  
But if pushed hard enough, and with Rick’s resolve he would have to be pushed _unbelievably_ hard, his lover could be broken.  
  
Rick turned around and stormed back into the kitchen, Daryl following close behind.  He of course kicked Randall one more time for good measure.  
  
They were met by Morgan’s yelling once again, about how they needed to leave the boy alone, which dissolved into obscenities about how far their group had fallen to have to rely on such tactics.  
  
Rick leaned in urgently, “did ya see the way his voice changed when he said there weren’t no women or kids?  He was hidin’ something.”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said.  
  
And then the lightbulb turned on in his head.  
  
_Oh fuck!_  
  
“There are women there,” Daryl said slowly.  
  
“But you’re thinkin’ they don’t wanna be there,” Merle finished.  
  
“’S what I was thinkin,’” Rick said as he straightened up, putting his hands on his hips and running his hand over his face while sighing.  
  
_Well, that can’t be good._  
  
_Then again, it can’t be good that a group of fifteen men, all armed, could be on their way to the town either._  
  
“Think ’s time for ole Merle to go in,” Merle huffed as he hitched up his jeans while cracking his jaw from side to side.  
  
“Oh for the love of!” Morgan wailed loudly.  He threw his hands up in the air  “this ain’t gettin’ us no where!”  
  
Ignoring Morgan, Merle walked into the garage, the rest of the group following him in.  
  
Merle held up his large hunting knife.  He twirled the blade several times so Randall could get a good, long look at it.  
  
It had the affect he had been aiming for as Randall started to tremble and swallowed audibly.  
  
“I could gut you.  Right here.  Right now,” Merle said quietly, as he twisted the knife around for further affect.  “Where’s the camp?”  
  
Randall licked his lips, his face going pale.  “Two miles south of here.  Okay?”  
  
Rick chuckled menacingly as he strutted over to Randall, looking down at the young man.  “Two miles south of here?”  
  
There was another lie they caught the young man in.  
  
Daryl had gone to the church steeple just after the shoot out.  Looking in all directions, he couldn’t spot anything.  Not a camp, nor the vehicle on its way out of town.  
  
It had to be further.  
  
“Now, I can see two miles south of here,” Rick continued.  “There ain’t nothin’ there.  Le’s try again.  Merle?”  
  
“I ain’t takin’ you there!” Randall cried out.  “You can’t do this to me anymore!  You ain’t like this…I can tell!”  
  
“Oh no, you’re wrong ‘bout that boy,” Merle growled.  “They ain’t like that.  _But I am_.”  
  
“You take me, I’ll just lead you ‘round and ‘round.  What you’d do to me is nothin’ compared to what they’d do!” Randall babbled.  “It ain’t nothing!”  
  
Merle grabbed Randall by his hair.  “You keep sayin’ what they’d do to ya.  I could do much worse.”  Merle pushed the boy’s head away.  
  
“Merle,” Rick sighed.  “We don’t wanna kill you Randall.  We need you.  But we’ll do what we gotta do…eventually.  You jus’ rest on it tonight.  We’ll talk ‘bout this again in the mornin.’”  
  
“‘M gonna sharpen my knife tonight boy, jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout you,” Merle said in a mocking tone.  
  
The group entered the kitchen, Morgan rounding on the rest of the men as he hollered.  “This needs to stop!”  
  
“Grow up Morgan,” Rick groused.  “You and Merle take first watch of the boy tonight.”  
  
Morgan and Merle looked directly at Rick and nodded their heads.  
  
Rick swiveled around and gazed fondly at Daryl, both men’s eyes fixed steadfastly on each other.  
  
Daryl wished that things were different tonight.  That things weren’t so unresolved.  
  
Because Daryl wanted Rick.  _Badly._  
  
Despite everything that had gone down, despite the need for him to hurt Randall and get all his frustrations out, a fire had grown inside Daryl since the cafe.  
  
Yes, his heart had stopped when he thought Dave or Tony had got the jump on Rick.  But when the smoke had cleared and his lover was still standing after having taken out not one, but _two_ of the ‘bad guys,’ and his fear for Rick had been assuaged, he couldn’t help but be in awe of him and his heart had actually beaten a little bit faster, all told.  
  
Daryl had become ridiculously aroused by the site of his lover in his victory, standing seductively over the two slain men.  
  
It was sexy and hot and made Daryl water at the mouth.  
  
Remembering the conversation he had had with Rick before all this happened, about Rick wanting to top Daryl, he realized that in that moment, he wanted Rick to fuck him.  
  
Wanted Rick to take him, fuck him on one of the tables, so close to the dead men laying on the floor of the establishment.  
  
And he still wanted it.  
  
It was an inopportune time and inappropriate as all hell.  
  
But it was what it was.  
  
Rick smiled at Daryl and nodded at the man to follow him.  
  
They had other plans to carry out.  
  
Shaking his head clear, he smiled back at Rick.  
  
Tonight was not the time for such things.  
  
He wasn’t sure when it would be.  
  
He just hoped he wasn’t a walking hard-on until then.  
  
  
  
  
Morgan’s POV  
  
  
  
Morgan crept into the garage, closing the door behind him.  
  
“What?  Who’s…who’s there?” Randall asked nervously into the darkness.  
  
“Sssh,” Morgan shushed as he crept closer to Randall, “‘I’m gonna loosen the ropes here.  Not gonna untie you.  But loosen ‘em so’s you can get around.  ‘M gonna make it look like you escaped.”  
  
Morgan worked diligently, making the boy’s bindings give a little.  
  
“Now, that door leads to the side of the house and then the outside.  You’re gonna go.  Go back to your people,” Morgan whispered.  “Ain’t right what they’re doing.”  
  
“Thank you.  Thank you,” Randall babbled, on the verge of crying.  
  
“But you gotta promise me one thing,” Morgan said seriously.  
  
“Anything!” Randall exclaimed in hushed tones.  
  
“Tell that group of yours, tell ‘em there ain’t _nothin’_ here.  No supplies left.  Nothin.'  And tell 'em it ain't secure here," Morgan urged.  “I don’t wanna see you boys here again.  ‘M puttin’ my faith in you boy.”  
  
“Yeah I got it, you can trust me,” Randall smiled appreciatively.  
  
“I was hopin’ you’d say that,” Morgan smiled back.  “Gotta start somewhere.”  
  
“Where’s that other guy…the one with the knife?  The one who’s on watch with you?” Randall asked.  
  
“Fast asleep.  Now go.  _Now!_ ” Morgan urged quietly.  
  
Morgan watched the young man as he peered cautiously out the door and made his way out.  
  
Sighing and getting up, Morgan made his way back into the kitchen where Merle was standing, a smirk on his face.  “That was some damn fine actin’ skills.  Remind me never to play poker with you.”  
  
“I’d like to thank the academy,” Morgan spoke eloquently as he picked up the can opener on the table and held onto it as if it were an Oscar, then chuckled.  “Good cop, bad cop really _does_ work.”  
  
“Yeah, Rick’s Plan B ’s workin’ like a charm so far,” Merle nodded.  “Rick and Daryl 're prob'ly already on the kid’s tail.”  
  
“Well, it’s not over yet.  Best you get to catching up with our boys,” Merle said.  “Wish I was coming…”  
  
“Naw, it’s best you get on up to that steeple with Duane…and Cinnamon,” Merle grumbled.  “Keep a look out on the town.  Make sure none of that group comes in.”  
  
“Alright,” Morgan said as he was about to make his way out, then stopped, clapping a hand on Merle’s shoulder.  “You be careful.  The boys too.”  
  
“Hey!  It’s me!” Merle said as he held his hands out.  
  
“That makes me feel better, _not at all,_ ” Morgan said as he shook his head sadly.  “And hey!  Maybe all this excitement’ll make Cinnamon lay an egg.”  
  
“Well, keep it warm for me,” Merle said as he made his way out.  
  
“I won’t be nestin’ on it for you asshole!” Morgan called out, chuckling to himself.  
  
The group had figured that they could get some information out of Randall, but not the location of the camp.  That was where Plan B had come in and Morgan playing ‘good cop’ to the group’s ‘bad cop.’  
  
And it was working so far.  He just hoped that they could carry out on the rest of the plan and that the three of the them could get to the other group and get the jump on them.  
  
If it all went ‘tit’s up,’ something Merle was so fond of saying, then they would meet up and leave the town, their bug out bags stashed on the outskirts in a prearranged spot.  
  
Morgan turned to go meet up with Duane at the church, his final thoughts turning to the boy they had tied up in the garage and the way he had talked about the father and his daughters.  
  
He knew it had all been part of the plan, to appear to be the reasonable one, but damn if he hadn’t wanted to kick the kid just one time.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, that was the same scene as in Season 2 with Daryl and Randall in the barn since that's the way it would have gone down. I decided not to be so irreverent since you know, torture.
> 
> By the way, I would like to thank everyone who has been commenting and giving me kudos. I really do love feedback. And yes, I'm a shameless feedback groveler.


	23. Chapter 23

  
  
  
Rick’s POV  
  
  
  
  
Sitting in the tree, Rick wondered for the hundredth time that night, what in the _hell_ they thought they were doing.  
  
Sure, keeping the town was a great idea.  
  
Better than being on the road at any rate.  
  
But really, maybe they should have just cut their losses and ran.  
  
The plan was genius, Rick had to admit.  Cut Randall loose, the kid being none the wiser since he thought Morgan had been letting him go because of a crisis of conscience, then follow the kid back to his camp.  
  
And Randall had not disappointed.  
  
The kid led them straight there.  
  
And the suits Rick and Daryl were wearing were also genius.  It was a conglomeration put together by Morgan and Merle.  They were ghillie suits, but with some added touches.  
  
It was a blend of the foliage around the woods so as to be undetectable by the other men, but underneath all that was walker blood, and unfortunately gore, so as to be invisible to said walkers.  
  
They had originally thought they could dress and act like walkers to infiltrate the encampment, but then decided against the idea, realizing that without knowing where they had placed their snipers, if there were indeed any, the said snipers might just shoot them, thinking them an undead threat.  
  
So the suits kept them from being seen by all.  
  
Rick turned to Daryl, who happened to be sharing the same tree with him which looked down at the encampment of about ten men.  He threw his hands up in the air and shrugged in a ‘what the hell are we doing here’ gesture.  
  
Of course, since Daryl was a wizard at reading his lover’s mind, he shook his head back and forth in a ‘whaddya mean’ gesture. Then he pointed to the young woman that happened to be tied up next to the campfire.  
  
She looked to be in her early twenties, maybe slightly older.  
  
Rick nodded his head grudgingly, Daryl knowing that to mean ‘oh yeah, we’re the good guys.’  
  
Then Rick pointed at himself and then pointed his finger in a gun-shooting motion to the right and to the left which clearly meant ‘yeah, but I’m not exactly sure I’m one of the good guys.  Remember the shoot out back at the cafe?’  
  
At this point Daryl made a hand gesture that clearly meant ‘Pfft!’  
  
Daryl hit him on the arm and leaned in closer when they saw Randall walk up to the man who was apparently the leader of the group, a man named Frankie.  
  
Now if Frankie didn’t sound like a goodfella name, Rick wasn’t sure what did.  
  
And the way Frankie’s men had been conducting themselves, it was obvious they too had come from the same neighborhoods as the ill-fated Dave and Tony.  
  
“You said I could have her,” Randall whined to Frankie, ‘her’ being the woman tied up next to the fire.  
  
“And you will.  We kept her for you,” Frankie said as he shrugged his shoulders.  “But only after you show us a way to get back into that town without being seen by those guys.”  
  
“I’ll fucking take you there!” Randall shouted.  “I wanna gut that hillbilly fucker who did this shit to me!  You think I don’t wanna?!  Just let me talk to her first!”

Upon hearing the way Randall had spoken about his lover, Rick wanted to jump out of the tree at that very moment and twist the _fucker's_ neck around.

And sensing he had felt that way, Daryl gave him a sidelong glance.  
  
Now, Rick and Daryl had learned a few things while being up in that tree.  
  
The group of thirty men had dwindled down to about nineteen when Dave and Tony had rolled into town.  Then it had indeed gone down to fifteen after Rick and Daryl had taken out Dave and Tony and the other two men who had come to find the aforementioned Dave and Tony.  The number now stood at ten, since more of their men had been taken down by some stray walkers.  
  
Ten was a much better number than thirty, Rick had to admit.  
  
But they were only three, if you counted Merle.  
  
Morgan and Duane were to stay up in the church steeple.  If there were any signs of the men coming back to town, they were to take off.  
  
They had even put a walker up on the water tower, sitting in a chair, a rifle poised over the railing, to serve as the lookout decoy.  
  
Rick just hoped that if everything went down badly, Morgan and Duane could get out of there in time.  
  
The other thing Rick and Daryl had learned was that the woman tied up at the campfire had been taken from _another_ town and Randall had made noises to the effect that he knew her.  Frankie seemed to want to keep her around to learn information from her.  He was pretty sure the girl came from some farm.  
  
This was why no one had touched her.  
  
That and she was a hellion.  
  
Every time anyone got close to the fiery woman, she would hit them with her feet, even with her legs tied at the ankles.  
  
Also, apparently, Frankie promised this woman to Randall, hoping they could use the kid as some sort of guide around this particular part of Georgia.  
  
So Frankie was keeping Randall happy by promising the woman to him.  
  
And Frankie wanted to keep the girl happy because she might lead them to a farm, which the girl had yet to confirm.  She was very good at keeping her mouth shut and not divulging information.  
  
Which brought them to the last thing they learned.  
  
In the small tent located next to the campfire, _another_ girl was being held.  
  
A very young one.  
  
The bound woman was quite worried about this young girl, so much so that she gave reason to believe that she might be willing to cooperate in exchange for the men leaving said young girl alone.  
  
Frankie had promised the woman that no man would lay a hand on the young girl, provided that she would work with them.  
  
So the way Rick figured it, Frankie was keeping everything balanced on the head of a pin.  The girl in the tent, the woman at the campfire and Randall.  
  
Then again, the bound woman knew she was keeping things precariously balanced as well, as she knew the minute she spilled anything about where this farm was, and that there _was_ indeed a farm to not spill anything about, they would hurt the girl, do unspeakable things to her and probably kill them both in the end.  
  
Rick was pretty sure Randall wasn’t as savvy as the bound woman was, that he didn’t seem to understand the dicey situation they were all in.  
  
And as if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a new player Rick had to figure in.  
  
He was a rotund, slovenly fellow by the name of Tommy, who kept eyeing the small tent with a lecherous smile upon his fat face.  
  
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what the despicable man wanted from what lay within that tent.  
  
Glancing in the direction of his lover, Rick knew by the look on Daryl’s disgusted face that he had come to the same conclusion as well.  
  
Frankie looked at the restrained woman and motioned to Randall, the young man quickly walking over to her.  
  
“Don’t fucking come near me!” the woman shouted.  
  
“Come on Maggie,” Randall pleaded.  “It’s cuz of me you’re still around, you know.  You should be nicer to me.”  
  
And now they knew her name.  
  
“It’s cuz of _you_ that I’m here.  I was just in town, mindin' my own damn business when you and your friends grabbed me!” Maggie yelled, wiggling in her restraints.  
  
“Come on, that ain’t no way to be.  I knew you in high school, you know,” Randall said calmly.  
  
“I don’t remember you!” Maggie said as she shook her head.  “That’s how important you were!”  
  
“I know you don’t ‘member me,” Randall spat.  “You and your friends thought you were always better ’n me!”  
  
“It seems we were right!” she jeered.  
  
“Maggie,” Randall said, “calm down.”  
  
“Fuck you!  Don’t touch me!” Maggie screamed as she wiggled around some more and started kicking Randall.  “You men are disgusting!  And keepin’ that little girl in there!”  
  
“I got nothin’ to do with that,” Randall reasoned.  
  
“Bullshit!  Then let her go.  Just let her go if you really mean it,” Maggie said crossly.  
  
“I can’t,” Randall whined.  “He’s keepin’ her around for some of the other guys,” he said, stopping when he saw the look of disgust on the woman’s face.  “Look Maggie, now they got this town.  They don’t need your farm.  They don’t need to keep you ‘round.  Or they will, but it won’t be good.”  
  
Maggie sneered as she looked at Randall.  “Then they don’t need you either but you're too stupid to figure that out.”  
  
“Now listen, once we take this town, you’ll have a nice place to stay,” Randall appealed to Maggie, dismissing what she had just said.  
  
_Of course he did._  
  
_Kid really is thick._  
  
“I _had_ a nice place to stay!” Maggie yelled, suddenly stopping and shrinking back when she realized what she had just said.  
  
Frankie stopped talking to some of the other men, Tommy included, and looked at Maggie.  He broke away from the group and walked up to the young woman.  
  
“Something you wanna share with us?” Frankie asked as he looked directly at Maggie.  
  
“Yeah,” Maggie said as she sat up straight in her position, looking Frankie directly in the eyes, “Fuck.  You,” she spat in his face.  
  
Rick had to hand it to Frankie, the man knew how to keep his cool.  
  
He wiped his face and stood up from his leaning position.  
  
“Tommy!” Frankie yelled, Rick watching as the fat man turned around, “Merry fucking Christmas,” Frankie said as he indicated the tent with an evil smile.  
  
And it appeared Frankie was about to call in his ace in the hole.  
  
Tommy’s beefy, sweaty face positively _glowed_ as he smiled back at their leader.  
  
Rick looked down at his watch, it having been synchronized with Merle’s.   
  
The idea was that Merle would create a diversion at a precise time, and in the pandemonium, Daryl and Rick would spring into action, releasing the girls and hopefully taking down the rest of the encampment, with the help of Merle.  
  
Unfortunately, the time of the diversion was set for approximately fifteen minutes from now.  
  
And just as Daryl looked to Rick for confirmation that they would jump out of the tree and hopefully kill everyone in the camp and save the girls, despite the lack of Merle, their diversion arrived in the sounds of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s 'Bad Moon Rising' playing loudly from the truck speakers.  
  
And there was the man himself, Merle, driving said truck, a small herd of walkers following close behind.  
  
_God bless the jackass for his impatience._  
  
That, or Merle didn’t know how to tell time.  
  
To say that it was utter chaos in the encampment was an understatement.  
  
Rick and Daryl jumped out of the tree as soon as the men who had been around the fire, including Randall and Frankie, went to the clearing Merle had driven into and started killing walkers.  
  
Merle nodded to both Rick and Daryl and fought off the men who were trying to kill _him_ , the man who had brought the madness to their camp.  
  
Rick motioned to Maggie, Daryl nodding and immediately heading for the captive woman.  
  
Rick made his way to the tent.  
  
Entering it, he saw Tommy grabbing hold of the girl from behind, his fat hands all over the small girl.  He was trying to kiss her, his disgusting tongue traveling over her wet cheeks as she cried out.  He was grinding against her, his lewd chatter filling the small space and running on repeat in Rick’s head.  
  
He saw the girl.  
  
Then he saw a faceless figure in place of the girl.  
  
It was only for a brief moment, but it flashed through his mind nonetheless.  
  
He cleared his mind and then it was gone, replaced with the girl again.  
  
She couldn’t have been more than twelve.   
  
She was so small, so slight, it made something in Rick snap.  
  
“What the fuck?!” Tommy said as he looked up at Rick.  
  
Tommy raised the gun to the little girl’s head, and while he was so busy looking at Rick’s gun in his right hand, he didn’t see the machete in Rick’s other hand as he raised it into the air and brought it crashing down onto Tommy’s head, splitting it open.  
  
Rick quickly grabbed the sobbing girl out of the dead man’s hands, and twisted her around, shielding her from the dying man’s twitching corpse.  
  
He hugged her to him tightly, the girl leaping further into his embrace, her frail arms wrapping themselves around his neck.  
  
He soothed her as she continued to sob, her whimpers quietly dying down when she realized she was safe in his arms.

That the man who had tried to hurt her was dead and Rick had saved her from him.  
  
Rick held onto the girl and exited the tent, just in time to catch Maggie, sans her bindings, and Daryl killing a few stray walkers.  
  
He was just about to join his lover when he heard Frankie’s voice behind him.  
  
“All my men gone,” Frankie, looking manic at the carnage around him, sneered as he held his hands out to his sides.  “Cause of some hillbilly _fucks_ like you.”  
  
Frankie went for his gun, Rick having the disadvantage as he was carrying the girl.  
  
Rick watched in horror as he was about to get shot by the crazed man when out of the blue another shot rang out, this one hitting Frankie squarely in the forehead.  
  
Rick looked over to where the shot had come from.  
  
There stood Maggie, a satisfied smile on her face and a smoking gun in her hand.  She strolled up to the body of the former leader, leaned over and scoffed, “well, at least we ain’t some damn Jersey Shore wanna-be's.”  
  
Sighing with relief, Rick looked up at Daryl, his lover looking back at him intently.  
  
Once again, there were no words that needed to be said as they had another one of those silent conversations between each other.  
  
_I almost didn’t get there in time._  
  
_It’s okay._  
  
_I could've lost you._  
  
_We’re okay._  
  
_I love you._  
  
_Love you too._  
  
And then the little girl popped her head up and looked at the scene unfolding around them.  
  
Rick noticed Daryl become quiet as he fixed his stare upon the young girl in his arms.  
  
“You okay Daryl?” Rick asked warily.  
  
Daryl peered at the girl more closely before he said only one word, “ _Sophia?_ ”  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we get Maggie AND Sophia in one shot.
> 
> That answers the question of how the farm fits in.
> 
> Frankie and Tommy are all mine.
> 
> And dead, which is a good thing.


	24. Chapter 24

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
  
“Sophia?” Daryl said again.  
  
Many questions started to rattle through his mind.  
  
_Where in the hell did she come from?_  
  
_How did she get taken by Frankie’s group?_  
  
_And where in the hell is the rest of the group?_  
  
“D-Daryl?” Sophia stammered as she peered more closely at Daryl.  
  
“You know each other?” Rick asked.  
  
Daryl noticed the way Sophia, with her dirty, blue shirt with the rainbow on it, and her smudged face, looking so lost and sad it actually _hurt_ Daryl somewhere deep inside him, moved closer into Rick’s side, the only man, no doubt, on this green earth who had ever made her feel truly safe.  
  
“She was with the other group…Sophia!  Where’s the rest of the damn group?” Daryl asked urgently.  
  
Merle walked up to the small gathering that included Maggie.  
  
“Sophia?” Merle asked as he looked around the woods, somehow wondering if the group would suddenly materialize out of the trees.  
  
“ _They’re gone!_ ” she yelled irately, her voice becoming quiet and broken as she continued.  “All gone.  Momma, Carl.  All gone…”  
  
“Wait now,” Merle said as he crouched down in front of the little girl to look her directly in the eyes.  “All of ‘em?  Was it them guys who killed ‘em,” he asked, as he indicated the camp around them.  
  
“No,” Sophia shook her head vigorously.  “After Shane kicked you guys out, Dale and Glenn got real mad.  Mr. Morales too.  Said they needed you guys.  You for huntin,’” she said as she looked at Daryl.  “And you,” she said as she looked back at Merle, “to protect ‘em.”  
  
_Huh.  So they were missed._  
  
_Even Merle._  
  
“There was arguing everyday after that,” Sophia continued.  “Momma called it ‘lockin’ horns.’  Said they needed to get stuff…supplies from Atlanta, but now there weren’t enough men left to go into the city _and_ to watch the camp.  Then we was attacked, by a huge herd of them walkers.  A whole lotta people got killed.  Amy was one of ‘em.  I liked her.  She was nice,” she said sadly.  
  
_Aw hell._  
  
Daryl remembered Amy.  She _was_ a nice girl.  
  
Sophia breathed in heavily before continuing.  “And daddy, he got killed…”  
  
Daryl watched Sophia’s face as she remembered her father.  
  
It was blank.  
  
Utterly blank.  
  
“You lost your daddy?” Rick asked, as he wiped the grimy hair off Sophia’s forehead and tucked it behind her ear, offering what little comfort he could to the girl.  “Sorry ‘bout that.”  
  
“Well you shouldn’t be,” Sophia said angrily, the stormy look back upon her face.  “He was an asshole.  He was an asshole to momma.  Hit her all the time.  And he tried to…to _touch_ me…just like that fat man in the tent,” Sophia said as she shivered and tucked herself in closer to Rick.  “Daddies aren’t supposed to do that.”  
  
_No they weren’t._  
  
_But some of them did_.  
  
When he had first met Carol and Sophia, neither one of them would have talked the way Sophia just had to their small group.  The word ‘asshole’ would never have left her lips.  
  
_Things have certainly changed._

 _She's changed._  
  
“Honey?” Maggie said.  “We can stop now…”  
  
“No!  I ain’t stoppin’ ’til I’ve said everything!” she said stubbornly.  Before she continued, she took a deep breath.  “So they were burying all the dead the next day, when Jacqui saw Jim had got bit.  They started arguin’ ‘bout that too.”  
  
They lost Jim too.  
  
Daryl had liked the man well enough.  He didn’t talk much.  Then again, neither did Daryl.  
  
So of course they had gotten along well.  
  
But it sounded like he didn’t get to go out too quickly.  
  
“They still needed supplies cause now we all needed to leave the quarry and Shane was fighting with Mr. Morales ‘bout everything, like where to go next.  Mr. Morales said he had enough and finally took his family.  Said he wanted to go to Alabama cause he’s got family there.  So they left.  Eliza gave me her doll, but I lost it,” she said as she trailed off again.   
  
“So the Morales’ are okay,” Daryl reaffirmed.  
  
“I guess.  Never saw ‘em again,” Sophia shrugged.   
  
It was that little apathetic shrug of her shoulders, for a family he remembered seeing the young girl play with, that got to Daryl.  
  
“So after they left, we all took off too.  Like I said, we needed supplies, so Shane decided to take us all into Atlanta, to get ‘em, then head off to Fort Benning,” Sophia said.  
  
“What?!?” Daryl and Merle shouted in unison.  
  
“It was Andrea and T Dog and Glenn and Jacqui in the RV with Dale.  And me and momma were in our Jeep with Shane and Lori and Carl,” Sophia said, her voice breaking when she said ‘momma.’  “We had some trouble in Atlanta.”  
  
_I bet._  
  
The last time Daryl had heard anything about Atlanta, it was when they had talked about it having been bombed and then the place having been over run with walkers.  
  
And Shane had led them all into the lion’s den anyway.  
  
“There was some gang there.  Don’t really remember much about it.  Just know they were going for the same supplies our group got together.  Shane, Glenn and T Dog followed them to some…whaddya call those places where old folk go to die?” Sophia asked.  
  
“Vegas?” Merle shrugged, Maggie hitting him on the shoulder.  
  
“Retirement home, sweetie?” Maggie asked.  
  
“Yeah.  Shane wanted to get into it with ‘em but Glenn and T Dog talked ‘em out of it.  We split the supplies…the guns and food…after that.  Jacqui stayed with ‘em,” Sophia said.  
  
The matter-of-fact tone with which Sophia had taken to relating her story sent a shiver up Daryl’s spine.  
  
_She had to grow up quickly out there._  
  
He would have worried about her calm exterior, the way she seemed to be completely emotionless, except for the way she would shuffle in closer to Rick when brushing over an event that caused her upset.  
  
“So then what?” Merle asked.  
  
“We got stuck on that highway outta Atlanta.  There were too many cars and Dale’s RV broke down,” she said flatly, moving a fraction of an inch nearer to Rick, his lover subconsciously wrapping his arm tighter around the slight girl.  “Then a herd of walkers come by and we all got under cars to hide from ‘em.  We waited 'em out.  They were almost gone too.  I saw my momma under another car.  Lori was holdin’ her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t call out to me to stay there.  She shouldna had to worry ‘bout me moving, ya know?” Sophia whined, looking directly at Rick.  “She shouldna.  But I moved, and then a walker heard me...or something, it got down and started grabbing for me…so I panicked and crawled outta there and ran.  I jumped over the railing…and ran.  I kept running and running…”  
  
A tear slipped down Sophia’s cheek, Rick wiping it away as she stared off into space.  
  
Maggie jumped into the conversation quickly at that point.  “That must’ve been pretty close to our farm, right off the highway.”  
  
“So there _is_ a farm,” Merle said.  
  
“Yeah,” Maggie nodded keenly.  “Farm’s pretty protected.  The stream runs ‘round the property, so it makes it hard for them walkers to get onto our land.”  
  
Daryl looked at Maggie when she said the word ‘walkers.’  
  
_She’s hiding something._  
  
_Isn’t everybody?_  
  
“Anyway,” Maggie continued.  “Tony and Dave and Randall,” she spat, “grabbed me outta the town that’s adjacent to our farm.  I was gettin’ some supplies at the local pharmacy when they came outta nowhere and surprised me.  Didn’t even have time to get ‘em with my bat.  They threw me into the back of a van with Sophia here.  She couldn’t of been in there too long.”  
  
“Who grabbed you sweetie?” Rick asked Sophia as he looked down at her.  
  
“Dave.  Said they would help me.  Take care of me,” Sophia frowned.  “I said I wanted to go back to my momma and my group.  They said they saw my group already.  Said there were no one left.  Said they were all dead.  They’re _all_ dead.  Momma’s _dead_ ,” she said, turning her head and crying into Rick’s shirt.  
  
_Shit._

 _Carol, Glenn, Carl, Lori, Andrea, Amy, Dale, Jim._  
  
_Maybe if you and chucklehead hadn’t gotten kicked out of the group, they would all be okay now._  
  
_Then again, you wouldn’t have met Rick, now would you?_  
  
Merle sighed and stepped back away from the group, leaning into Daryl and Maggie.  “All of ‘em gone, but Sophia there.”  
  
“Don’t you think...I dunno...maybe _some_ of them might’ve survived,” Daryl whispered.  
  
“Um, we passed by that RV she was talkin’ about when the guys had us in the van,” Maggie grimaced.  “There weren’t no people there.  It was pretty deserted.”  
  
“Maybe they went lookin’ for Sophia though,” Daryl said.  
  
“Still, they woulda left someone there, in case she got back,” Merle said.  "It's the kinda thing Dale or Glenn woulda done."  
  
“Shit!” Daryl cursed.  “The whole damn group?!”  
  
“Oh!” Maggie exclaimed.  “ _Bob!_ ”  
  
“Bob?” Merle asked while looking around.  “Another one of them wise guy fuckers?”  
  
“No!  Pfft!” Maggie scoffed.  “He’s this real nice guy Frankie found along the way.  But he didn’t exactly take to how they were doin’ things here in camp, if you know what I mean, so they got him locked up in the back of the van.”  
  
“Well, why in the hell didn’t they jus’ _kill_ him?!  Seems more their speed,” Merle scoffed.  
  
“Bob’s some kinda doctor I reckon,” Maggie shrugged.  “Come on.”   
  
Daryl, Maggie and Merle came upon a white van, the back doors securely locked.  
  
They could hear the muted tones of someone singing.  
  
_Singing?_  
  
Daryl and Merle broke the lock and opened the back of the van.  They came face to face with an African-American man, sitting cross legged, an empty bottle of Ron Rico’s rum cradled in his arms, singing the song 'Brandi, you're a fine girl' very badly.  
  
“He ain’t even tied up,” Daryl said as he looked incredulously at Merle.  
  
“Who’re you two?” the inebriated ‘Bob’ inquired as he tried to focus his eyes on the duo.  
  
“We’re here to rescue you,” Merle mocked gruffly.  
  
Bob’s glazed eyes twinkled while he snickered, “aren't you a little too redneck to be stormtroopers."

Daryl and Merle looking at each other quizzically.  
  
“Sorry, when I’m completely tanked or in mortal fear for my life,” Bob hiccuped, “or _both_ , I make inappropriate movie references.”  
  
“Yeah, well, who doesn’t?” Merle shrugged.  
  
Daryl and Merle lifted the man out of the back of the vehicle at the same time as Rick and Sophia made their way to the group.  
  
“They’ve kept him pretty sauced since they brought him here.  Figured it’d make it easier to handle him,” Maggie winced.  
  
“So’s they put a bottle in front of ya and you what?  Jus’ _decided_ might as well drink it?!” Daryl berated.  
  
“Let me tell you,” Bob said as he pointed a finger in the air, leaning against Maggie, “never put a full bottle of rum, or _anything_ for that matter, in front of a recovering alcoholic, my friend.  It never ends well.”  
  
“Figures, we get a doctor and he’s a damn _booze hound_.  We got a chicken that don’t lay eggs,” Merle grumbled.  “Suppose iffen we ever get any women, they’ll be full on lesbian!”  Merle looked over at Maggie and leered suggestively.  
  
“Not interested,” Maggie drawled, rolling her eyes.  
  
“See?!” Merle snapped.  
  
“So, name’s Bob.  Bob Stookey,” he said and hiccuped once again.  
  
“Rick.  Rick Grimes,” Rick said as he nodded, his lover watching the doctor rather warily the whole time.  
  
“I’m Merle.  That’s my brother Daryl,” Merle said as he pointed to Daryl.  
  
“This ’s my brother Daryl and my other brother Daryl,” Bob chuckled.  “Come on, it’s funny.  Newhart, remember?”  
  
“I shot the last guy that made that joke,” Rick drawled before he snickered, Daryl joining in.  
  
Of course, Daryl could join in the laugh now.  
  
He hadn’t been laughing when that Frankie fucker had almost _killed_ his lover.  
  
Whatever Maggie asked of them, he would gladly give it to her.  
  
“He may be all tanked on rum,” Merle said as he lifted the empty bottle and scoffed.  “Seriously, Ron Rico?  But he’s all right.”  
  
_And Merle made another friend._  
  
“So, where is everyone?” Bob asked.  
  
“All dead,” Maggie said.  “I got Frankie and Danny.  Rick got Tommy in the tent.  Daryl got Buddy and Carlo.  Merle took out Sonny, Vinnie and Joey.”  
  
“Felt like I was in a god-damned Scorsese movie,” Bob grumbled, “and not a very good one.”  
  
“What about Randall?” Maggie asked.  
  
“Got that fucker 'fore he became a 'made man.'  He tried to get me with that puny knife of his,” Merle jeered.  “Fucking twisted his neck.”  
  
“Twisted his neck?!” Bob scoffed.  “Why’d you do that?”  
  
“Cuz I liked the sound it made when it snapped,” Merle snickered.  
  
“No!” Bob chided.  “Did you stab him in the head after?”  
  
“Why would I do that?” Merle asked.  
  
And as if their luck (or lack thereof) seemed to have it, fate was listening, and chose that exact moment in time to answer Bob’s question.  
  
“ _That’s why!_ ” Bob yelled as he pointed at the walker coming toward them.  
  
_What the fuck?_  
  
Everyone watched in stunned silence as Randall, well, what was _once_ Randall anyway, came ambling toward them, his neck at a strange angle to his body.  Daryl aimed his crossbow and pulled the trigger, the bolt embedding itself in its head.  
  
Everyone looked down at the body lying on the ground, the milky white of Randall’s eyes staring back at everyone.  
  
“But he wasn’t bit,” Merle said.  “He wasn’t _bit_.”  
  
“Where you guys been?!” Bob chuckled mirthlessly.  “Don’t gotta be bit to turn into a walker.  Well, if you _do_ get bit, you turn into a walker…”  
  
Bob stopped and looked back at the blank faces before him.  
  
“Once you die, no matter how, you turn into a walker,” Bob shrugged.  “We’re _all_ infected.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to Italian-Americans everywhere. I know they're not all cliches from Martin Scorsese movies. 
> 
> But these were.
> 
> And yes! We have Bob!!!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being MIA. It's just that my husband switched out hard drives AND I have 2 graduations coming up, a prom, 2 retreats the kids are going to, 2 concerts and a partridge in a pear tree...
> 
> (A partridge who happens to need a fucking tux...)
> 
> So warning. There's sex in this chapter.
> 
> Cause you know, you need to be warned...

  
  
  
Rick’s POV  
  
  
  
  
“So let me get this straight,” Maggie said, “you got this chicken…that won’t lay eggs?!”  
  
“Yep,” Merle nodded from his position in the driver’s seat of the van they commandeered from the doomed camp.  
  
“And her name is Cinnamon?” Maggie continued.  
  
“That was me,” Rick said as he raised his hand, Merle scowling at him as he did so.  
  
 _God, would the idiot ever let him forget?_  
  
“And all you want from my daddy, is to take a look at the chicken?” Maggie asked incredulously.  
  
“Well, you said he’s a vet,” Daryl interjected.  
  
Maggie shook her head once again.  
  
Rick sighed as he rode in the back of the van, his and Daryl’s camouflaged suits stuffed in a corner, smelling up the inside of the van.  
  
Or the smell was on them.  
  
He had Sophia tucked up under his side, sleeping soundly, while Daryl was leaning against his other side.  
  
Had he been any closer, he would be on his lap.  
  
Rick and Daryl had asked Maggie if she would like to stay at the town, however she had stated that even though the town sounded _great_ , she wanted to get home, back to the farm to her father and her sister.  They were probably worried sick about her.  
  
This of course led Rick to dark thoughts about a possible family who might be missing _him_.  Deciding not to go down that path, he tucked the sleeping girl further into his side, while burrowing deeper into his lover’s warmth.  
  
So Rick and Daryl had agreed to take Maggie back to her farm and in exchange maybe her father, the veterinarian, could tell them what to do with their chicken because it would be nice if Merle could see Cinnamon as something useful instead of a plate of Coq au vin.  
  
“Why don’t we just give you some of _our_ egg layin' chickens?  We have plenty to spare,” Maggie said.  
  
“That works too,” Merle piped in.  
  
 _Now, why didn’t you think of that?_  
  
 _Because maybe you were too busy wondering about the fact that you, as well as everybody you’ve grown to care about, is infected._  
  
 _Oh yeah, that._  
  
It meant that no matter how a person were to get killed, whether you happened to get bit, or die of a heart attack, or fall off a roof, or anything that isn’t a direct shot to the head or knife wound to the brain, you would come back as a walker.  
  
Even a gunshot wound to the heart wouldn’t…  
  
 _Oh shit!_  
  
“Guys, we have to go to the cafe before we go back to the house,” Rick said urgently.  
  
“Jus’ wanna get home.  Don’t wanna drink right now,” Merle grumbled.  
  
“I’ll second that,” Bob interjected, the newest member of their small group rubbing at his temple, no doubt nursing quite the hangover.  
  
“No!” Rick said.  “I mean Dave…we gotta take care of _Dave_.”  
  
“Well I was gonna do that,” Merle groused.  “Don’t want those two dead fucks stinkin' up the place.  But we could do it in the mornin.’”  
  
“I mean, I shot Tony in the head, but I got Dave in the chest,” Rick stated, “so Dave isn’t exactly…dead.”  
  
“Oh shit!” Daryl exclaimed.  “Forgot ‘bout that.  Me and Rick can take care of…um… _Dave_.”  
  
Rick thought about that old saying, ‘if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?’  So what would the new saying for the apocalypse be?  
  
If you die and come back as a walker, do you cease to have a name?  
  
“But Tony’s _dead_ dead, right?” Bob mumbled.  “Hated that asshole.”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Rick nodded just as static came through on the walkie-talkie attached to Rick’s belt.  “Hey Morgan.”  
  
“Hey, you guys gotta ETA?” Morgan asked over the radio.  
  
“Yeah, me and Daryl gotta take care of somethin' first, but the rest should be there in about fifteen,” Rick said, then turned aside and quietly spoke into the radio, “how’s project pink fluffy unicorn coming?”  
  
“Pink fluffy unicorn?” Merle laughed.  “See what I mean?  Always namin’ shit.”  
  
Maggie looked at Rick and raised one eyebrow.  
  
“I named it that asshole,” Morgan said, his voice coming through very clearly over the radio.  “Yeah, ’s almost done.  Duane was pretty excited ‘bout it.”  
  
Rick clicked on the radio with a smile, “can’t wait to see it.”  
  
“See you guys soon,” Morgan said and the radio went silent.  
  
Maggie looked at the sleeping child in Rick’s arms and then at both Rick and Daryl.  “Project pink…?”  
  
“You’ll see,” Rick said with a smile as he leaned his head against the wall of the van.  
  
“She looks so peaceful.  Think that’s the first time I’ve seen her sleep so sound,” Maggie said fondly.  
  
Rick looked down at the sleeping girl at his side.  
  
She had been with the group Daryl and Merle had started off with.  
  
That whole group, except for Sophia, was now dead.  
  
 _Dead._  
  
A stray thought appeared in Rick’s mind.  That Daryl and Merle had stayed with the group.  
  
That they could have just as easily been subject to that herd on the highway.  
  
Rick clasped his hand tighter around Daryl’s.  
  
“’S okay,” Daryl whispered into Rick’s ear.  
  
“Yeah?  You know what I was thinkin?’” Rick scoffed.  
  
“You were thinkin’ about the fact that I coulda been with the group.  That _I_ could be dead now,” Daryl frowned.  
  
He really hated when Daryl read his mind like that.  
  
“You sure you’re not one of them X-Men mutants?  Got the power to read my mind?” Rick scoffed.  “‘Sides, maybe that wasn’t what I was thinking?  Maybe I was thinking of what Merle would look like as a walker.”  
  
“There’d be a difference?” Daryl teased.  
  
“Yeah, that’s right.  Pick on ole Merle,” he grumbled.  “I’ll make a quick stop at the cafe, you guys run in and Wyatt Earp can off Dave… _again_.”  
  
“Wyatt Earp?” Maggie asked.  
  
“‘M a good shot,” Rick murmured,  “I guess.”  
  
“You guess?” Maggie shrugged.  “Seems like it would be something you'd know.”  
  
“I’m sorta…I’m not really sure,” Rick stammered.  
  
“He’s…well, he kinda,” Daryl stuttered, trying to help Rick but failing just as badly as he was.  
  
“He don’t remember who he is,” Merle shot out.  “Can’t remember a damn thing.”  
  
“Amnesia?!” Maggie sputtered.  “But…so is Rick your real name?”  
  
“Yeah, it was on a bracelet on my wrist,” Rick said, “and, I guess I was in a coma and now…I’m not.”  
  
“You’re a doc, right?” Daryl asked of Bob.  
  
“Sorta,” Bob shrugged, wincing as he did so.  “Oh my head.”  
  
“Sorta?” Daryl shrugged back.  “You got a medical license, right?  What, you some Tijuana doctor or something.  Worked outta motel rooms?”  
  
“I was a medic in the army,” Bob said.    
  
“See?!” Merle exclaimed.  “And you were all excited ‘bout havin’ a doctor,” he grumbled.  
  
“Hey, don’t discount me too fast.  I know stuff,” Bob asserted.  
  
“Well, whaddya know ‘bout amnesia?” Daryl asked, as he grabbed onto Rick’s hand more tightly.  
  
“Wasn’t that like usually a plot device on soap operas?” Bob asked.  
  
 _Yeah, that was it._  
  
 _You’re just a plot device in some soap opera._  
  
 _You’re probably the figment of some deranged script writer's imagination._  
  
“Look, I do remember this guy,” Bob started.  
  
“A guy with a medical degree?” Maggie asked.  
  
“May I continue?” Bob asked huffily.  “In the army, there was _this guy_.  He got temporary retrograde amnesia.  He was in a coma for about a week, woke up and couldn’t remember where he was, when he was, what tour of duty he was in.  _Nothing_.  I mean, he knew _who_ he was, just not what happened before.  He just woke up one day, thought he just graduated from high school, banged his girlfriend…um, Nina, in the back of his mom’s Honda and then he was like, ‘hey, how the hell did I end up here?’” Bob related the story as he remembered all the details.  
  
“So then what?” Daryl asked.  
  
“He got his memory back.  Remembered he was in the army and how he came to be in a coma,” Bob shrugged.  
  
Rick watched as Daryl considered what Bob had just said.  
  
“So what?  You sayin’ Rick’ll wake up one day and remember everything?” Daryl asked incredulously.  
  
“I did say I was only a medic in the army, right?” Bob asked.  “I mean, you get that, right?”  He sighed as he looked at Rick.  “Look, what exactly is it you don’t remember?”  
  
“I can remember things, events, songs, movies, how to do certain things.  It’s just the personal stuff.  Like…you know,” Rick sighed in frustration, “personal stuff.  What was I?  Who was I?  It’s only stuff specific to me.  It’s not like I had to be taught how to do everything all over again.”  
  
“Huh,” Bob huffed as he looked upon Rick thoughtfully.  
  
“What’s the ‘huh’ for?” Daryl asked.  
  
“I’m not allowed to ponder something?” Bob said.  “How’d you end up in the coma?”  
  
“Seems like I was shot.  And I must’ve been there at least a month or more,” Rick said.  
  
“Wow,” Bob said, clearly impressed as he continued to study Rick.  “Could be your mind’s way of protecting itself from the trauma of being shot…or maybe…something that happened _before_ you were shot.”  
  
“Ain’t being shot enough,” Rick laughed mirthlessly.  
  
“I used to think that.  The thought that dying or getting hurt was the worse thing that could happen to you,” Bob said as he leaned back and rubbed as his temple again.  
  
“It ain’t anymore?” Daryl asked.  
  
“Naw, now it’s watching everyone else ‘round me dying.  Dying and staying dead or dying and coming back,” Bob sighed while closing his eyes.  
  
Well if a truer statement had been uttered that day, Rick couldn’t for the life of him recall it.  
  
Then again, that wasn’t exactly saying much.  He couldn’t recall much of anything, except useless information.  
  
Well, some of it was useless, but quite a bit of it had helped in taking over the town and ridding themselves of the enemy camp.  
  
And speaking about that ill-fated camp, they arrived at the cafe.  
  
“Don’t worry, we got this,” Daryl said as he hopped out of the back of the van.  
  
“Yeah, piece of cake,” Rick said as he followed Daryl out.  “Meet you back at the ranch.”  
  
“It really ain’t no ranch,” Merle said as he addressed Bob and Maggie, the aforementioned people sharing a look with each other.  
  
The van drove off as Daryl and Rick approached the doors.  
  
“Ready?” Daryl asked as he regarded Rick.  
  
“You always ask that,” Rick said as he nodded his head.  “No Daryl, I’m not ready.  How ‘bout we just sit out here and enjoy the stars.”  
  
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Daryl opened the door and fixed his eyes squarely on the same thing Rick had his attention riveted on.  
  
There was walker Dave, munching on Tony, or what was left of Tony anyway.  
  
The man had been corpulent so he provided quite the feast for his former friend.  
  
“Well,” Rick shrugged, “Dave _had_ said he would maybe eat Tony later.”  
  
“Must be later now,” Daryl mumbled and shook his head.  “Oh, that’s fucked up man.”  
  
And while the men looked on in ghoulish fascination, the Jersey boy, formerly known as Dave, gazed up and slowly rose to his feet, the blood and viscera of Tony hanging precariously from his mouth.  
  
“I’m not even wasting a bullet on it this time,” Rick said adamantly as he walked purposely up to the thing and stabbed it in the head with his machete.  
  
“Guess the place is secure now,” Daryl shrugged.    
  
“Probably should check,” Rick said, “just in case.”  
  
But before Rick could venture further, Daryl grabbed hold of him and pushed him against the wall, grabbing Rick’s face and plundering his mouth with his tongue.    
  
“Fuck!” Daryl panted as he finally came up for air, “when that fuck Frankie came up to you, it was like slow motion man,” he lamented, his voice breaking slightly.  “I mean, _fuck_ Rick!” Daryl dove in for another searing kiss.  
  
It was a reaction that was more about solace, about reassurance, about climbing into Rick and holding onto him, than it was about sex or carnal thoughts or anything else of a lustful nature.  
  
“I’m okay Daryl,” Rick assured his lover.  
  
No, not his lover.  
  
Daryl was not and never would be _just_ his lover.  
  
He was his _love._  
  
He placed his hand on Daryl’s cheek.  “I’m okay.  You woulda had my back anyway, if Maggie hadn’t come through.”  
  
“Can’t always have your back Rick,” Daryl said desperately.  “’S what I’m afraid of.”  
  
“I got faith in you Daryl Dixon,” Rick smiled as he touched his forehead to Daryl’s, “even if you don’t.”  
  
Daryl smiled back at Rick and kissed him ever so slowly, their tongues no longer dueling with each other, but caressing softly, entwining themselves together.  
  
It was then, during such a sweet moment in time, that a vision again appeared to Rick.  
  
It was him in that accursed hospital room again, but this time, never having woken up from that damn coma.    
  
And he came back.  
  
Only this time he was one of those _things_.  
  
And Merle and Daryl had come upon the hospital, Merle wanting to raid for it whatever Merle had wanted to raid the hospital for the first time, and Daryl had come across Rick, staggering around, his eyes lifeless and unseeing.  
  
Rick could almost feel the bolt from Daryl’s crossbow as it entered his head.  
  
Shuddering from the vision that had thankfully never come to pass, Rick was the one this time to grab onto Daryl forcefully, kissing him passionately and greedily.  This time he _was_ the one seeking solace from the man he loved.  
  
“Rick?” Daryl moaned.  “Whaddya want Rick?  I’ll give it to you, whatever you want,” Daryl whispered into his ear as he nuzzled along his cheek.  
  
“You.  Want you,” Rick growled.  
  
Want.  
  
Need.  
  
It was all the same thing.  
  
Rick pushed Daryl against the bar, not knowing really what he was doing, only that whatever he was about to do, Daryl would most assuredly be along for the ride.  
  
He grabbed onto him and held on as he continued to plunder his mouth, coming up for air only out of necessity.  
  
“You know what to do Rick.  You know,” Daryl moaned into his ear.  
  
Rick spun him around, Daryl grabbing hold of one of the stools as he faced the bar.  
  
“Was hoping to do this in a proper bed,” Rick nervously chuckled.  
  
“No.  Now,” Daryl panted.  “Want you now.”  
  
Rick pulled Daryl’s pants down, exposing his ass while he slowly caressed his lover’s cheeks.  Rick leaned against Daryl’s back, nuzzling the place behind his ear, praying to a God he wasn’t even sure existed anymore to not hurt the man he loved so very, very much.  
  
“Back pocket,” Daryl whined as he pushed back against Rick.  
  
Rick sent up a silent prayer to all small tubes of lubricant everywhere and their lovers who always thought ahead.  
  
Applying the lube to his fingers generously, Rick breached Daryl’s opening, the other man gasping as he did so.  Rick stopped mid-thrust.  
  
“’S okay, jus’ cold,” Daryl murmured. “God, that feels good,” he moaned.  
  
Rick pumped his finger in and out slowly, then sped up when he realized how much he needed to be in Daryl.  By the sounds of the moans coming from his lover, Daryl needed it too.  
  
Rick managed to find the small bundle of nerves that Daryl always managed to find on him and stroked over it again and again.  “God!  Fuck!  Rick!  Fuck me.  God!!”  
  
Watching his lover humping the stool while whimpering desperately caused something to click in Rick’s mind.  
  
He quickly unzipped his jeans, stroked his member a few times and entered his lover, Daryl gasping loudly.  
  
Rick thrust a few times delicately before the primal part of his brain took over and he pounded into his lover ferociously, over and over again.    
  
He kept going, egged on by his lover’s cries.  Daryl pushed off the stool and leaned against Rick, writhing as he continued to be thrust into brutally by Rick.  
  
“So good,” Daryl moaned as he went to grab his cock to stroke it.  Rick pushed Daryl’s hand out of the way as he grabbed it instead.  One hand on Daryl’s member and the other around his neck, Rick continued to slam increasingly harder into his lover.  
  
He could feel his body starting to shake as he was about to come.  So many sensations coursing through him, he bit down on Daryl’s shoulder. 

Daryl suddenly came with a shout, his channel tightening around his own shaft, Rick's mind becoming blank as he too came, shuddering as he emptied himself into his lover.  
  
Rick held onto Daryl tightly, kissing him along his cheek, his jaw, his ear, as he came down from his high.  
  
He wasn’t sure if he _ever_ wanted to let go.  
  
“Fuck, I needed that,” Daryl sighed happily.  
  
“Can I just stay here for awhile,” Rick’s muffled voice came from the crook of Daryl’s shoulder.  
  
“Fuck yeah,” Daryl chuckled.  “But I wouldn’t exactly wanna be like this when Merle comes lookin’ for us.”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick sighed.  “Right.”  
  
Pulling out of Daryl gingerly, Rick leaned over behind the bar to find one of the bar towels.  
  
After cleaning Daryl and himself up, and getting themselves put back together, Rick looked apprehensively over at the other man, “you okay?”  
  
“Seriously,” Daryl scoffed.  “”M tryin’ to pull my game face back on so I’m not grinning like a loon when we get back to the house!  'Am I okay' he asks,” Daryl mumbled as he turned to the door.  
  
Smirking, Rick joined Daryl at the door.  “You ready?” he jokingly asked.  
  
“Don’t fuckin' get smart with me,” Daryl said as he pointed at Rick.  “Hey, so I gotta ask you one thing.”  
  
“Yeah?” Rick asked, his brows furrowed.  
  
“Was it really Morgan who came up with the pink fluffy unicorn project name,” Daryl asked, “or was he just coverin' for you in front of Merle?”  
  
And there was Daryl again, knowing Rick so well, it really _did_ scare him sometimes.  
  
Then again, Rick found a strange sort of comfort in it.  
  
“Well, what do you think?” Rick asked as he bumped shoulders with the other man.  
  
“Knew he was coverin’ for you,” Daryl smiled.  
  
Both men opened the door and peered around cautiously, deciding it was safe to venture out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments. It makes me want to write more.
> 
> Just to let you know, while I had to take a rest from my computer, I came up with some fun ideas for one-shots.
> 
> Also, my 11 year old is into Bond movies so he suggested I write something about that so I was thinking of something totally dumb, like Rick and Daryl and the gang (the good guys in the show) being the Bond villains (Rick being the main Bond villain) and the bad guys (Gareth, the Governor) being British Intelligence (LOL!). Oh yeah. And it would be in the 70's so there would be free love and sex and Rick and Daryl in groovy clothing. ;P
> 
> Interested?


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, back at the ranch.
> 
> But really, its only a house. :)

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
Daryl woke from his long, hard earned slumber, the sun shining in through the light curtains on the windows.  
  
It was a good day.  
  
Sure, they had had to kill quite a few people the night before.  
  
And yes, he had learned the terrible status of the group him and Merle had first hooked up with, though truth be told, he wasn’t really sure they were all dead to begin with.  
  
And of course, they had a new fly in the ointment, that is to say, that they were _all_ infected.  
  
But they had managed _not_ to get killed in their rescue of Maggie and Sophia the night before and they had managed to still hold onto the town they were now calling home.  
  
And did he forget to mention he had _the_ best boyfriend in the world, such as the world was now.  
  
So yes, it was a good fucking day.  
  
When it was the end of the world, when there was mass annihilation and devastation, it was the little things that you had to be thankful for.  
  
After they had come home from the cafe, Daryl now getting the ribbing from Merle and Morgan about his new pronounced limp, and really, it wasn’t _that_ pronounced if truth be told, Rick had taken Morgan aside to ask about ‘Project Pink, Fluffy Unicorn.’  
  
When Morgan had given him the all clear, Rick had called to Sophia to join him, to show her where she would now be staying for the foreseeable future.  
  
He had made his way up the stairs to the attic, Daryl curiously in tow.  
  
Now the attic had been an idea of Morgan’s originally as it was a great place for Duane to sleep at night.  
  
The staircase to the attic was only accessible if you pulled the chord on the hatchway, thereby letting the spring-loaded staircase down.  
  
So even in a case where the house had been compromised, the attic would be a safe zone, Duane securely squired away above.  
  
And now Duane had a roommate as Sophia would be sharing the space with the teen.  
  
There had been no question as to where the young girl would be residing.  That had been a foregone conclusion.  
  
However Rick, his lover, his boyfriend, his partner, his _everything_ , had come up with something even more.  
  
Something to maybe make the currently dark world a little, well, less dark.  
  
He had contacted Morgan via walkie talkie and told him his plan, which the man had agreed to readily.  Then Morgan and Duane had quickly set about gathering everything necessary.  
  
It was an easy run as the store was in one of their cleared zones.  
  
Rick had pulled down the hatchway, the staircase rolling down and proceeded to climb upward, Sophia and Daryl following close behind.  
  
When they entered the attic, Daryl’s eyes had immediately traveled to the far corner, just under one of the eaves, a small round window the only source of light in the corner.  
  
“Well, Sophia, I give you your new room,” Rick said, making air quotes around the word ‘room.’  
  
And Sophia, the small child who hadn’t said as much as ‘Boo’ before last night, (except for her long tale of what exactly happened to the group after the Dixons were kicked out), whether it was at the first camp when her mother and father were alive, or during the trauma that was her stay with the boys from Jersey, had squealed.  
  
She honest to God, _squealed_.  
  
“It’s so pink,” Daryl muttered.  “And fluffy.”  
  
“I give you Project Pink Fluffy Unicorn,” Rick said with a smile, his arms crossed over his chest in satisfaction as they watched Sophia jump into the soft pile of quilts, stuffed animals and pillows that was now her small corner of the world.  
  
There were numerous pink and yellow and white over stuffed quilts lining the floor, her makeshift bed really only two large dog beds strapped together.   
  
A pink, gingham curtain cordoned off the corner, so she could have her privacy when she wanted.  
  
Several pillows of varying sizes and fabrics lined the wall around the bed.  There were pillows made of soft chenille shaped into owls, and bright colored, felt pillows with simple designs, and a few pillows that looked like planets.  
  
And don’t even get Daryl started on the stuffed animals.  There was no end to the amount of teddy bears, all different colors and sizes, as well as brown rabbits with floppy ears and colorful sea creatures.    
  
And right there, in the middle, as if a sentry on watch, was the pinkest, the _fluffiest_ , unicorn Daryl had ever laid eyes on.  
  
Really it looked more like a very furry sheep with a horn on top than the more traditional creature of legend.  
  
And Sophia was hugging the damn thing to her tightly.  
  
“I saw it…at the store…when we cleared it,” Rick whispered in Daryl’s ear.  “That’s why the name popped up.”  
  
Daryl and Rick watched as the girl rolled around in the quilts, giggling as she took in her small niche.  
  
“You like it sweetie?” Daryl asked, a smile on his face.  
  
“Like it?” Sophia said as she looked directly at both men before launching herself yet again at Rick and hugging him tightly.  “I love it!  It’s perfect!”  
  
“Now you ‘member to thank Morgan and Duane.  They’re the ones who worked on this for you,” Rick said.  
  
And with that, Sophia had made her way down the stairs, looking for the men who had created her new home.  
  
It really wasn’t much.  Just a corner of an old attic, outfitted with some toys and bedding.  
  
But to Sophia, it was a _palace_.  
  
It was a colorful and happy oasis in a desert of gloom and decay and death.  
  
It was _perfect_.  
  
And _that_ was why he had the best boyfriend in the world.  
  
And here it was morning, the sun was shining and he was wrapped around said boyfriend as he lay sleeping in bed, Daryl’s arms holding him securely in place.  
  
They would have to get out of bed eventually, greet the newest members of their group, Bob and Sophia, and then travel to Maggie’s farm to deliver her back safely.  
  
But for now, he was bound and determined to enjoy the moment as it stood.  
  
Daryl bent his head and breathed in the scent that was pure Rick.  
  
They had only just been covered in walker guts the night before.  
  
Conserving all hot water, and being far too exhausted, they hadn’t taken a shower last night.  
  
And yet, Rick smelled so _good_.  
  
Rubbing his morning wood against Rick’s ass, Daryl leaned his head in and nuzzled at the back of the other man’s neck.  
  
“Well good mornin’ to you too,” Rick murmured.  
  
“God, you always smell so good,” Daryl growled in Rick’s ear just before biting it.  “You should smell like warmed over shit, but damn if you don’t smell good.”  
  
“You said that already,” Rick snickered.  
  
“You still sore…down there?” Daryl whispered, nuzzling at Rick’s neck.  
  
“Think ’s sufficiently recovered,” Rick shrugged.  “I dunno though.  Could jus’ give you a blow job…”  
  
“No.  Wanna fuck you,” Daryl growled as he started grinding against Rick’s behind in earnest.  
  
Rick turned over and put his forehead against Daryl’s.  “Did anyone ever tell you, you are one sweet talker Mr. Dixon?”  
  
“Yeah, enough sweet talk.  Wanna fuck,” Daryl snarled, becoming more insistent as he continued to rut against Rick.  
  
“Knew you would,” Rick whispered as he smiled at Daryl playfully.  “So I prepared myself ‘fore you got up.”  
  
And with that, Rick rolled over and raised his behind into the air.  
  
“Oh fuck yeah!” Daryl exclaimed gleefully before he got behind Rick and positioned himself.  He took one finger and entered Rick’s entrance, just to make sure.  
  
Rick had prepared himself alright.  He was so wet and warm and really, it was just much too much.  
  
Daryl stroked his cock before sliding into Rick.  
  
Yes, _perfect_.  
  
The last thought Daryl had before his primal urges took over and he fucked Rick into the mattress, was that he really _did_ have the best boyfriend in the world.  
  


  
_In the mean time, downstairs in the kitchen…_

  
  
Maggie’s POV

  
  
Maggie looked at the two men before her, both lost behind the pages of the old newspapers, both drinking the horrible coffee they had brewed.  
  
She had just began to ponder showing them the correct way to brew coffee so you could actually _enjoy_ drinking it when she heard the banging against the walls, coming distinctly from upstairs.  
  
And then the swearing, primarily coming from the younger Dixon.  
  
“You get used to it,” Morgan said casually as he took another sip of the accursed coffee.  
  
“Yep,” Merle said, still engrossed in a paper of his own.  
  
“So they’re both…with each other?” Maggie stammered, a ‘Fuck You’re so goddamned tight!’ being shouted out from above.  
  
Putting the newspaper down, Merle narrowed his eyes, “you ain’t gotta a problem with that, do you?”  
  
“Oh no, that ain’t what I meant,” Maggie said hurriedly before sighing.  “Just…”  
  
 _Just the first two men you’ve seen since this whole fucking ordeal, the first two men you’re_ actually _attracted to, and of course they’re with each other._  
  
 _Figures._  
  
 _Might as well scratch those two off that list of yours._  
  
She wondered if she would ever find someone for herself in all this wretchedness.  
  
With the banging becoming more persistent, and the obscenities becoming louder, Maggie continued to watch the ceiling.  
  
“Daryl’s a quiet guy,” Morgan said as he peered over his newspaper at Maggie, “‘cept for when he’s banging Rick.  Then he’s the most foul mouthed fucker you’ve ever met.  Makes sailors look like choir boys.”  
  
Another chorus of ‘Fuck!’ could be heard.    
  
“He always gits like this right ‘fore he comes,” Merle nodded as he continued to read.  “Then he’s all ‘ _Fuck Rick_!’”  
  
They all stopped to listen as a loud, piercing ‘Fuck Rick!’ war cry could be heard.  
  
“Bingo,” Merle drawled.  
  
“They’ll be down soon,” Morgan smiled and returned to his paper.  
  
Just then, Bob came down the stairs and into the kitchen, “and here I was worried ‘wake up calls’ were a thing of the past.”  
  
Everyone laughed while Bob bumped shoulders with Morgan.  
  
“As soon as I git a little action, if you know what I mean,” Merle said matter-of-factly, “‘m givin’ a little bit of payback of my own.”  
  
“Well, you know, Merle,” Morgan said as he set his paper down, “you shouldn’t despair.  There’s a lovely woman out there with, low expectations, just meant for you.”  
  
“Ha ha,” Merle grumbled.  “Why you readin’ that paper.  Tha’s all old news.”  
  
Morgan looked at Merle disbelievingly.  “Excuse me, but why are _you_ readin’ the paper then?”  
  
“Ain’t readin' it,” Merle said as he flipped to what he was looking at.  “Lookin’ at the comics.  I jus’ love that Marmaduke,” he snickered.  
  
Maggie giggled as she watched the exchange between the two men.  “You two sound like an old married couple.”  
  
“Well, not that I don’t find you utterly attractive Merle,” Morgan said mockingly, “but alas, you’re just not my type.”  
  
“Knew you were always lookin’ at me,” Merle muttered back teasingly.  
  
Everyone stopped and went back to whatever they were doing when Rick and Daryl made their way down.  
  
“So nice of you gentlemen to _come_ and join us,” Morgan said, a smile on his face as he continued to read the paper.  
  
“So are you both _coming_ with me today?” Maggie asked innocently, but for the suggestive leer she was sporting.  
  
“Oh _come_ now, do they both have to _come_ with you?!” Bob said, joining in with the teasing.  
  
“So…when are you _going_ …ah Fuck!” Merle sputtered.  
  
“And sadly, the fun has _come_ to an end,” Daryl said, his hand over his heart, Rick flicking Merle’s ear as he passed by him, while the older Dixon playfully swatted at him.  
  
Maggie watched the cheerful, serene scene before her.  
  
She couldn’t wait to get back home, to her family, to her house, to her life.  
  
But she would miss these people very much.  She found herself wishing there was some way she could convince her daddy that maybe they could stay at the farm with them.  
  
She shook her head clear.  
  
There were bigger problems awaiting her back at the farm, her daddy’s inability to see clearly at the top of the list.  
  
Maggie didn’t want to involve these good people with her problems.  
  
  
*******  
  
  
They had traveled quite a while, making note of any snags and obstacles on the road, looking for any people who might be wandering, talking about what they missed most about life before the upheaval, and about silly things that meant absolutely nothing, when Maggie noticed they were fast approaching her home.  
  
She couldn’t keep quiet about her secret any longer.  
  
She knew she had to enlist Rick and Daryl’s help.  
  
It was for her daddy’s own good.  
  
And for the safety of the farm.  
  
“Guys?” Maggie started hesitantly, “there’s something you oughta know, ‘bout my daddy.”  
  
“Oh don’t you worry,” Daryl said, as he leaned over from the back of the van, “me and Rick won’t do nothin’ in front of him.  We’ll be good," he said as he winked at Rick.  
  
“Oh no!” Maggie scoffed while waving her hand in the air.  “He don’t care ‘bout two men.  You could do the deed right in front of him and he wouldn’t care.”  
  
Daryl and Rick looked at her and raised their eyebrows collectively.  
  
 _Seriously, did they share the same brain?_  
  
“Well, okay, he wouldn’t _not_ care, but,” Maggie stuttered.  “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that.”  
  
“Okay, so noted,” Daryl snickered.  “We won’t be doin’ the nasty in front of ole…Hershel was his name?”  
  
“Yeah, Hershel.  So, look," Maggie sighed and took a deep breath before going further, "my daddy’s got walkers in the barn,” she said quickly.  
  
Daryl shrugged, “hasn’t got ‘round to burnin’ the bodies yet?  I mean I get why he wouldn’t wanna dig a bunch of graves, but storin’ those bodies gotta smell something fierce.”  
  
“No,” Maggie said more urgently, “they’re not _dead_ walkers.  He ain’t killed ‘em yet.  He can’t,” Maggie said desperately, “he thinks they’re jus’ sick.  He’s got a barn full of _live walkers_!”  
  
The van came to an abrupt stop.  
  
Rick looked seriously out the windshield before turning toward Maggie in his seat, Daryl leaning in as well, a stern, yet stunned look on his face.  “Now you start from the beginning.  I wanna know all ‘bout this _shit storm_ we’re ‘bout to get into.”  
  
Maggie had to agree.  
  
It would be quite the shit storm.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google pink fluffy unicorn dancing on rainbows.
> 
> I could watch that video all damn day. 
> 
> I LOVED all the many responses I got on my last chapter for my other story.
> 
> *hint hint*


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm now 100% back! Woo Hoo!!
> 
> Yes, the restaurant is busy and yes, we're enjoying our summer, but I NOW, finally, have more free time.
> 
> I've got it down to a system. :)
> 
> Also, writing 'Coming to his senses' was a great way to get back into writing, so I'm here, and I'm all ready to go. Look for more frequent updates on this (because once a month is NOT acceptable!!!)

  
  
  
Rick’s POV

  
  
  
Rick lay against Daryl in the large claw foot tub, the soap bubbles thick and smelling of something akin to daisies, his lover adoringly lathering his hair with a sweet smelling shampoo.  
  
They had both decided to take Hershel up on his offer to use the tub to clean the day’s filth and grime from their tired bodies.  
  
_The day’s filth and grime?_  
  
_The blood of a shitload of walkers all stuffed into a barn was more like it._  
  
“You know,” Rick said lethargically, “iffen I learned anything in the past twelve hours, ’s that the apocalypse really… _sucks_.”  
  
“Amen,” Daryl muttered, as he scrubbed behind one of Rick’s ears.  
  
Rick made a small whimpering sound as Daryl continued to massage his scalp.  
  
“Fuck them little noises you make,” Daryl snarled as he bit at Rick’s ear, “and you wonder why I wanna eat you up half the damn time.”  
  
Rick stirred the warm, soapy water with one hand lazily while he thought back on the day’s events.

 _Rick and Daryl had almost wanted to convince Maggie to stay with them at the town when she related the tale about the farm._  
  
_About how her daddy and his friend, Otis, had been capturing walkers and stacking them up in the barn, her stepmother and stepbrother in there as well._  
  
_About how her daddy thought the people were merely sick, not at all dead, and that one day, they would just stop being sick, and well, stop trying to_ eat _people, and be alright.  That they would be like new again._  
  
_But she had pleaded with them, saying it was her daddy there on the farm and that there was her baby sister, Beth, that she had to consider too.  She had to go back.  It was her home and all that entailed._  
  
_So Rick had looked Maggie straight in the eye and said intently, “then let me and Daryl broach the subject with your daddy.  You need to be there, but let us break it to him.  We’ll help him see reason.”_  
  
_“Yeah,” Daryl said.  “We’ll ease 'im into it.  Make him see they’re not people no more, but_ dead _.  And that they’re dangerous.”_  
  
_Rick knew he would have to convince the man that there was no cure for the people in his barn.  That the only ‘cure’ was one shot to the head, a funeral service, and then a brief period of mourning._  
  
_Maggie had listened and readily agreed._  
  
_She would do it their way._  
  
_Finally, after the emotional confession from Maggie and the discussion of their battle plan, they arrived at the farm._  
  
_It was truly lovely, with its rolling pastures, and large expanses of space._  
  
_And not one walker in sight._  
  
_The Greenes had gotten incredibly lucky here, no question about it._  
  
_They had driven up to that huge front porch, the kind Rick remembered seeing in movies as a kid, the kind he would have always liked to have had in front of one of his homes, and wondering if maybe he actually_ had _had one in front of his house._  
  
_And there are on the porch, was a kindly looking, older gentlemen by the name of Hershel.  He had white hair and a beard and if there were still department store Santa's at Christmas time, he surely would have made the best one yet._  
  
_He of course had come running out with his rifle drawn as soon as the strange van had driven up the long drive, but upon seeing Maggie’s head sticking out the partially open door, he dropped that rifle on the ground as if it had burned him and had come running, meeting the vehicle half way._  
  
_He ran pretty well for an old guy._  
  
_Hershel tried to grab onto Maggie’s hands while the van was in motion, making it so Rick had to bring it to an abrupt stop.  Maggie had jumped out of the van and hugged her daddy, while two women stepped out onto the porch to see what all the fuss was about.  They both shielded their eyes from the sun as they took in the scene._  
  
_As they got wind of the happy homecoming, they too ran off the porch and down the drive to grab onto Maggie, hugging her tightly._  
  
_“Oh my God!  Maggie!  Oh God!” a young, blonde girl kept crying as she held onto Maggie._  
  
_That had to be Beth, who seemed to be beside herself at seeing her sister again._  
  
_Hershel’s face, as old and haggard as it was, seemed to positively_ glow _at the sight of his daughter, who he had no doubt given up for dead by now._  
  
_“I had Otis out there, lookin’ for you every day,” Hershel cried as he gazed happily at Maggie.  “Jimmy too.”_  
  
_“Oh daddy!” Maggie cried as she grabbed onto her father once again._  
  
_An older woman, who must have been Patricia, Maggie having told them all about her in the van, came up to Maggie and put her hands on her cheeks.  “I knew there weren’t no Greene that didn’t know how to look out for themselves.  I was prayin' for your safe return.”  They embraced emotionally while Beth jumped around them, a beaming smile on her face._  
  
_“We’re all home together now,” Hershel wept._  
  
_“Oh daddy!” Maggie said as she stepped away, Rick and Daryl now making their way out of the van.  “I want you to meet Rick and Daryl, the men who saved me and brought me home to you.”_  
  
_Before Hershel could come around to greet the men, Beth bounded over and kissed Rick on the cheek, surprising him._  
  
_She smiled widely at Rick, “Thank you, for bringin’ my sister back.”_  
  
_Rick nodded in her direction as she walked back over to Maggie, her attention on Rick the entire time._  
  
_Daryl leaned over to Rick and whispered, “I saved her too.”_  
  
_“Jealous?” Rick chuckled as he leaned in as well._  
  
_They watched as Hershel walked over to them, grabbing each man’s hand in return and holding it reverently in his own.  “You men…Rick,” he said as he turned to Rick, “and Daryl,” he said as he regarded his lover, “you can stay here as long as you want.  You brought my little girl home to me.  I thank you…hate to say it cause it sounds so cliche,” he chuckled, “but truly, from the bottom of my heart.  Anything you want, name it.”_  
  
_“Well, um,” Rick said._  
  
_“Daddy!” Maggie said, “they got a town they’ve made their home.  They got other people back there, people they gotta get back to.”_  
  
_“Oh,” Hershel said, almost regrettably, “thought maybe you wanted to stay.”_  
  
_“No,” Rick said.  “In fact, we wanted to know if you wanted to come back home with_ us _, but I can see you’re pretty attached to this place here.”_  
  
_The old man looked around him wistfully, “yeah, it’s been in our family for over one-hundred and sixty years.”_  
  
_Rick almost sighed in relief at the fact that they hadn’t brought Merle along.  Firstly, because they weren’t sure how he would handle the situation they knew to be brewing in the barn and secondly, because Merle might have said something only the bonehead would say, something like whether Hershel had been here since the beginning or not._  
  
_“We’d appreciate maybe stayin’ here for the night though,” Rick said, hoping that could maybe buy them some time.  “Don’t wanna be out driving at night time, if it’s all the same to you.”_  
  
_“Of course!” Hershel said.  “You don’t wanna be caught out there at night!”_  
  
_“And daddy, I was thinking, maybe they can have some chickens too,” Maggie said._  
  
_“We got plenty,” Hershel nodded._  
  
_“Good, we got this chicken that don’t lay eggs but we can’t eat her cause he named her,” Daryl said as he pointed to Rick, “and Duane’s kinda attached to it.”_  
  
_“You had to bring that up,” Rick admonished Daryl._  
  
_They both stopped when they heard a small giggle coming from Beth._  
  
_When they turned to look at her, she was staring at both men in rapt attention, a teasing grin on her face._  
  
_They weren’t the only ones to have noticed as Maggie turned to her sister as well, a frown upon her face.  “Bethy, don’t go there.  Jus’ don’t.”_  
  
_Despite the fact that Beth had been thoroughly overjoyed only a few minutes ago at seeing her sister again, she now, most assuredly,_ glowered _at Maggie._  
  
_“Well, why don’t you come in and have some breakfast, then we’ll see about those chickens for you,” Hershel said, as he indicated to the men to head into the house._  
  
_“Yes!” Patricia beamed.  “I’ll rustle up some bacon and eggs.”_  
  
_“Bacon?” Daryl and Rick replied in unison, both men watering at the mouth at the mere mention of the rare treat._  
  
_“Yes, now come on in.  Maybe I’ll even make some pancakes,” Patricia said._  
  
_“Don’t go to any trouble on our account ma’am,” Rick said.  “‘M not a pancake kinda guy.”_  
  
_Sundays with lumpy, terribly made pancakes suddenly drifted through his mind._  
  
“Think ‘m gonna hurl iffen Patricia makes any more goddamn food for us,” Daryl mumbled behind Rick as he continued to massage the soap into Rick’s head.  “Think these people are cannibals and they’re fattening us up to eat us.”  
  
“Hmm?” Rick moaned.  “Didn’t hear you.  Too busy enjoyin’ my hair massage.  ’S like a god-damned spa treatment.”  
  
“Don’t forget to tip me after,” Daryl chuckled.  
  
“Yeah, right.  Okay,” Rick snickered, his eyes closed in pure bliss.  “Don’t set up a kill room until you’ve checked every room in the house.”  
  
Daryl chuckled as well, “bend down so’s I can wash the soap outta your hair.”  
  
Rick leaned down so Daryl could fill the small bucket with clean water.  He then carefully tilted Rick’s head back and poured the water into his hair.   
  
“Fuck this day,” Daryl scoffed, “yeah?”  
  
Rick drifted off to memories of earlier in the day, sometime after breakfast when Hershel had led them to another part of the farm after having gone to the chicken coop.  
  
_They had just loaded the van up with ten chickens, all, according to Hershel, prime egg layers, and now the old man had wanted to show them something else, something special, in a penned up part of the barnyard._  
  
_Maggie had followed close behind, Rick reassuring her yet again that he would break the news to Hershel delicately, that he wouldn’t overwhelm her father about his knowledge of what lay waiting in the barn._  
  
_Hershel had brought them to the pen where a huge pig lay about, a small gaggle of piglets running around._  
  
_The old man had picked up one of the piglets and had held it up for the men to see.  “Now, I’m giving you this piglet, so’s you can have things like bacon and ham and ribs and all the other pork meats.”_  
  
_“Oh Hershel!” Rick exclaimed, “that’s too generous.”_  
  
_“You brought my baby girl back to me,” he said._  
  
_“Wish you’d stop callin' me that,” Maggie huffed._  
  
_“You brought my baby girl back to me,” Hershel said, all the more louder and in Maggie’s direction, “so this is a little thing.  A few chickens and a piglet ain’t nothing.  You take care of her, feed her and when it comes time to butchering her, I can help you.  But I’m giving her to you,” the old man said as he held onto the piglet firmly, “but you gotta promise me_ not _to name her.  You can’t name her, or you won’t wanna eat her.”_  
  
_Rick looked down at the tiny, pink piglet fondly._  
  
_Hershel sighed.  “You already got a name for her, don’t you?”_  
  
_“She looks like a Violet,” Rick pouted.  “I can’t help it.”_  
  
_“You sure these men saved_ you _?” Hershel asked Maggie as he turned around to address her._  
  
_“She looks like a Violet, don’t she Daryl?” Rick asked his lover._  
  
_“She don’t look like no Violet, Rick!” Daryl barked.  “A Rosie maybe…”_  
  
_“Daddy, they know about the walkers in the barn!” Maggie blurted out._  
  
_Now, if Maggie had been driving a stick shift car, after having been told repeatedly to shift from first to second, then to third, then to fourth, she would have listened attentively all the while and then she would have shifted from first straight into fourth anyway._  
  
_Hershel glared at both men, throwing a glare in Maggie’s direction for good measure, then turned around and left the pen, a squealing Violet in his arms._  
  
_Despite the rift Maggie had just created between the men, Rick still had time to wonder at how he had managed to get so fucking attached to a pig he had only just met._  
  
“You think we can borrow their hair conditioner?” Daryl asked as he rinsed the last of the suds from Rick’s hair.  
  
“I don’t need no conditioner,” Rick sulked.  
  
“Pfft!  You’re not the one’s gotta comb it out later,” Daryl huffed.  “Okay, now you wash me.”  
  
Both men stood up in the tub and traded places, Daryl now leaning against Rick as he lathered up his lover’s hair.  
  
“That old man was crazy as fuck,” Daryl grumbled.  “Coulda gotten us all killed.  Coulda gotten _you_ killed.”  
  
“Well he didn’t, but fuck, what was he _thinking_?  I mean I get it,” Rick said as he massaged the shampoo into Daryl’s hair.  “His wife was in there.  He didn’t wanna give up hope, I reckon.”  
  
“His wife were dead Rick!  _Dead!_   And he was puttin' everyone here in danger too,” Daryl barked, though not as harshly as before, as he relaxed into Rick’s soothing ministrations.  “We coulda just as easily been walking into a death trap when we first got to this here farm, bringin' Maggie home to see her whole family dead.”  Daryl sunk into Rick lazily, before he jumped up again.  “And don’t even get me started on the damn barn!”  
  
“Sssh, relax Daryl,” Rick soothed, his mind drifting off to what happened after Maggie’s confession.  
  
_“Now Hershel,” Rick cajoled as he followed the angry man who was walking in no particular pattern whatsoever._  
  
_“Daddy, you gotta listen to these men.  Tell ‘em ‘bout how we’re all infected!” Maggie shouted at Daryl and Rick._  
  
_Hershel seemed to stop in his tantrum long enough to look up.  “What now?” Hershel asked._  
  
_“We’re all infected daddy.  Even if you die without gettin’ bit, you’ll still turn into one of them things,” Maggie said, her face pleading with her father to listen to them._  
  
_Rick winced as he saw the exact moment Hershel’s face lit up._  
  
_“Then it is a disease!” Hershel urged as he looked squarely at his daughter.  “There’s gotta be a cure!”_  
  
_“No, what she means Hershel,” Rick said as he addressed the man, “is_ when you die _, as in you have to die first in order to become one of them things.  Those people are dead.  They’re not gonna get better.  They’re dead.  You have to be_ dead _to be like that.  There ain’t no in between.”_  
  
_Hershel glared at Rick.  “You men need to get off my property!”_  
  
_“I don’t think so,” Rick said as he shifted, putting one hand on his hip and tilting his head._  
  
_Daryl would call it his resolve face._  
  
_“I can’t in all good conscience leave knowin' what you got in that there damn barn!” Rick challenged as he pointed to the large structure._  
  
_“It ain’t your business!” Hershel shouted as he got into Rick’s face._  
  
_“Back off old man!” Daryl growled as he stepped up and got between the two men.  “You gotta ticking time bomb in there.”_  
  
_“Daryl hold on,” Rick said as he put his hand on his lover’s chest.  “Look, you got your wife in there.”_  
  
_“Don’t,” Hershel started before he looked at Maggie as if she had just stabbed him in the back.  “You told them?  Complete strangers?  Why?”_  
  
_“Please daddy, this ain’t right,” Maggie pleaded yet again._  
  
_Hershel turned around, ready to walk away, deciding he wanted nothing more to do with the conversation._  
  
_Rick, however, was going to have_ none _of that._  
  
_“You need to listen to us Hershel.  About your wife,” Rick started._  
  
_“Stop talking ‘bout her!” Hershel snarled._  
  
_“There’s a man, a good man, back at town.  His wife died too.  And he loved her something fierce.  He couldn’t bring himself to kill her either,” Rick stated._  
  
_“Rightly so!” Hershel shouted.  “It’s murder!”_  
  
_“No, it ain’t.  Cause you can’t_ murder _the dead,” Rick said, now slightly more calmly, wanting to make sure he could get the older man to understand.  “He waited.  Couldn’t bring himself to do it.  Then one day…no, now listen…listen to me,” Rick said as Hershel made to leave.  “One day, he was out with his son, a boy ‘bout fourteen.  His momma came up to him, and if it weren’t for another member of our group, that boy would be dead right now too.  And his daddy would be mourning him as well as his wife.  He knew it had been wrong to wait.  He_ knew _.  And he knew he almost got his boy killed.  You got people here Hershel.  Good people.  You got Patricia and Otis,” although he had no idea who the hell Otis was, “and Jimmy and your daughters…_ Hershel _!  Beth and Maggie.  How’d you feel if one of them things got out and killed them?!”_  
  
_“I ain’t listening to you no more,” Hershel said quietly as he turned away from Rick._  
  
_“Listen to him daddy!” Maggie said._  
  
_“Fuck talkin’ to this thick headed old coot!” Daryl barked._  
  
_Just then there was a sound Rick would know anywhere._  
  
_A walker._  
  
_And it was being led into the barnyard by a rather portly man, no doubt this being the infamous Otis, on the end of a pole, dragging him as if it were merely a mad dog that needed to be put into a cage._  
  
_“Maggie?” Otis said, a relieved smile on his face, as he saw the girl for the first time since they had gotten to the farm.  “You’re okay?”_  
  
_Wanting to stay on topic, Rick turned in anger to Hershel.  “This…_ this _is madness!  You can’t collect walkers!  It ain’t right.  You need to put ‘em down!”_  
  
_“Don’t tell me what to do!  These are people, not dogs!” Hershel thundered back._  
  
_“No they ain’t!  They’re reanimated meat suits.  They’re killin’ machines!” Rick shouted back.  “Look at it Hershel,” Rick pleaded, as he pointed to the thrashing, gnawing walker at the end of the pole, “that ain’t sick.  That’s_ dead _.  ’S nothin’ more than rotting flesh.  If they were to come back, what would they fuckin’ be?”_  
  
_“You’ve seen sick people before, how the sickness ran through their bodies,” Hershel said, “but somehow, they came back.”_  
  
_“Not like this old man!” Daryl yelled._  
  
_“This ain’t cancer daddy,” Maggie nodded._  
  
_Rick looked at the stubborn old man, the man who continued to look at these things as if there were hope for them._  
  
_As if there were hope for his wife._  
  
_The madness had to_ stop _._  
  
_Rick liked to think, as much as what he knew about himself at this point in time, that he was a reasonable man, and why that thought struck something in him, he didn’t know, but that voice, whatever or whoever it had been that said it, was right._  
  
_Because now was the time to_ not _be reasonable._  
  
_Rick pulled out his Colt and aimed it at the body._  
  
_“What’re you doing Rick?” Daryl asked, surprised at his lover no doubt pulling the weapon._  
  
_“Rick?” Maggie cautioned._  
  
_“Can a sick person, someone who_ ain’t _dead, do this?” Rick shouted as he put two shots into where the liver would be.  The body continued to jump and thrash, not even seeming to care about the bullets.  He then aimed for the heart and put two shots there.  “That there was the heart.  That would stop someone cold.  They’d be down now,” Rick shouted._  
  
_Everyone, including Hershel, watched in horror as the walker continued, not seeming to be phased in the slightest._  
  
_“You’re a fuckin’ doctor!” Rick yelled at Hershel._  
  
_Hershel continued to look, not knowing what to do next._  
  
_“Only one way,” Rick said, as he aimed the Colt for the head and pulled the trigger, the walker going down immediately._  
  
_“But,” Hershel stammered, “it can’t…it’s…no!”_  
  
_“’S what I been tellin' you all along, what_ they _been tellin’ you,” Rick said, shrugging his shoulders in defeat._  
  
_If Hershel didn’t understand by now, he_ never _would._  
  
_Maybe he could figure out a way to take Maggie and Beth out of there.  Patricia and Jimmy too._

 _He still wasn't sure about Otis._  
  
_Hershel looked one more time at the body on the ground, bending over the rotted corpse, taking a closer inspection._  
  
_He then got up, and looked at everyone around him._  
  
_“I’m an old fool,” he said dejectedly as he made his way to the house purposefully._  
  
_Everyone watched as Hershel walked away._  
  
_“You’re Otis, right?” Rick asked of the portly man, who had long since dropped the long pole._  
  
_“Yes, sir,” Otis replied quickly, no doubt deferring to Rick as the man in charge as the other man in charge went away to be a little crazy for a while._  
  
_“No more catchin’ walkers, got it?” Rick ordered, an order that was clearly meant to be obeyed._  
  
_“Yes sir,” Otis replied even quicker than before.  “Thank God,” he sighed._  
  
_Everyone watched as Hershel came running back out of the house, that same rifle from before in his hands once again._  
  
_Maybe the old man wanted to test Rick’s theory of shooting bodies and watching them stay alive._  
  
_Probably on Rick._  
  
_Rick stood ready for whatever Hershel would dish out, Daryl standing at attention as well._  
  
_“We’re openin’ that damn barn door and shootin’ a few at a time.  I’ll take out my wife, if it’s all the same with you,” Hershel nodded in both men’s direction.  “Then we’re gonna go out and get piss drunk since I ain’t got no spirits in the house.”_  
  
_The man looked crazed, but his logic seemed sound._  
  
_“Okay,” Rick shrugged.  “Mass killing of walkers and a round of drinks, got it.”_  
  
_“Works for me,” Daryl shrugged, agreeing with Rick._  
  
_“Maggie, you keep your sister and Patricia inside the house,” Hershel said as he addressed his oldest daughter._  
  
_“Daddy, I’ve had some experience killing…”_  
  
_“For fuck sake Maggie!  Get in the damn house!” Hershel shouted, Maggie quickly running into said house.  “Open the door!” Hershel said, his eyes focused on the doors ahead of him._  
  
_And with that, Otis moved forward and unlocked the padlock, the door swinging wide open._  
  
_“Fuck Hershel!” Rick screamed.  “How many you got in there?!”_  
  
_Both Rick and Daryl moved back slightly, Jimmy and Otis behind them._  
  
_The massive horde made its way out of the barn, banging both doors open wide._  
  
“Fuck!” Daryl said as he leaned forward so Rick could rinse the soap out of his hair.  “If that weren’t the _damnedest_ thing today.”  
  
“’S done now Daryl,” Rick said as he poured the clean water over Daryl’s head.  
  
“What’d he think was gonna happen, openin’ the door, not telling us how many were in there, making us think we could get ‘em one or two at a time,” Daryl grumbled.  
  
“He didn’t, think, that is," Rick said.  
  
“Got that right,” Daryl muttered, moaning as he made himself more comfortable against Rick.  
  
_Hershel kept shooting at the walkers coming out of the barn, Otis firing where he could, along with Jimmy, who didn’t seem to be a very good shot._  
  
_Daryl, not using his crossbow this time but one of the rifles, kept firing at the walkers that were making their way past the fence, while Rick kept shooting at the walkers directly in front of him and coming out the door._  
  
_All the men were becoming quickly covered in blood and gore as they were getting very close to some of their kills._  
  
_It was utter chaos, there not seeming to be a system, just an all out free for all._  
  
_When the last walker had vacated the barn, all the men stood vigilant, waiting for any strays that might still be in the barn, waiting to leave._  
  
_“You been puttin’ them in there,” Rick said as he turned to Otis._  
  
_“I know, and really, I don’t think I can say sorry enough for that,” Otis blathered._  
  
_“No,” Rick huffed.  “I mean, is that all of ‘em?”_  
  
_“I’ll double check, but I think,” Otis said as he looked around him and nodded, “yeah.”_  
  
_Wiping some of the filth from his face, Rick walked over to Daryl and nodded once at the man, Daryl nodding back in return, their silent conversation saying so much without ever having uttered a single word._  
  
_Looking over at Hershel, they saw the man bent over the body of a female, no doubt his late wife.  Otis approached the older man after having double checked the barn, and put his hand on his shoulder._  
  
_“I coulda put her out of her misery so long ago.  But I kept her…like a damn_ dog _.  Caged in there with,” Hershel broke off as he sobbed brokenly._  
  
_After the carnage, Beth came running out of the house, Maggie and Patricia close on her heels.  Beth joined her father by her mother’s side, crying uncontrollably at the still form.  Maggie stood next to her grieving family, letting her daddy know that it would be alright now, that they could give her some peace now._  
  
_Hershel grabbed his daughter’s hand and held on, a simple act of solidarity._  
  
_The family was mourning._  
  
_Their grief and sorrow were thick in the air._  
  
_But now, that it was all over, they could heal._  
  
_When all was said and done, when the bodies of their family and close friends were prepared for burial, and the rest of the bodies were loaded up and taken elsewhere to be burned, Hershel had made good on his word, and had gone into town with the boys to have a round of Jimmy Bean._  
  
“Think we're all clean now?” Daryl murmured, relaxing against Rick as he let the warm soapy water run through his fingers.  
  
“Think so,” Rick smiled.  “Daryl?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“If I ever got bit and I turned…”  
  
“Which you won’t!” Daryl barked.  
  
“But iffen I did, would you kill me right away or would you, you know,” Rick swallowed, “keep me locked up somewhere, so you could have me ‘round, thinkin’ I might come back or I dunno…”  
  
Except for the drip of the faucet, there was complete silence in the small bathroom.  
  
“Daryl?”  
  
“‘M thinking!” Daryl shot back.  
  
“Daryl!” Rick said, slapping his lover on the chest.  
  
“Of course I wouldn’t keep you all chained up.  But it would be hard,” Daryl said, so quietly it was hard to hear him, “to kill you that is.  But it’d have to be me that did it.”  
  
“Hershel seemed okay at the bar,” Rick said as he relaxed back in the tub.  
  
“Yeah he did.  Tough fucker.”  
  
“I mean, I think he knew all along, you know?” Rick said.  “That those people were never comin’ back.”  
  
“Yeah but…but he _needed_ to see you shoot that walker, to wake him up.  He couldn’t deny it no more,” Daryl said.  
  
“Thought I was being an asshole,” Rick snickered.  
  
“No, well maybe, jus’ a little, but it were needed,” Daryl murmured.  
  
“’S nice here but I can’t wait to get back home either,” Rick sighed.  
  
“Yeah, you know, I was thinkin,’” Daryl said.  “You really think Sophia’s group is dead?”  
  
“You mean cause those Jersey fuckers _told_ her they were dead?” Rick asked.  
  
And here they were, on the same wavelength again.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said.  
  
“You see?  Now if I were making off with some kid, like sickos do, I’d tell the kid things like...your mom and dad were tired of taking care of you or something happened and now they’re dead or...or they can’t take care of you.  Something, to make the kid not worry ‘bout their parents.  I think those assholes did the same fuckin’ thing,” Rick said.  
  
“I was thinkin’ the same damn thing,” Daryl said.  “We should start off in the same place they were last seen, where Maggie pointed to us, maybe follow the road out, see where it takes us.  Iffen Carol’s alive, Sophia should be with her momma.”  
  
“I like the way you think Mr. Dixon,” Rick smiled, as he kissed the top of Daryl’s freshly washed hair.  
  
“Why thank you Mr. Grimes.  Although why you gone and put all these god-damned towels ‘round the tub, I dunno,” Daryl muttered.  “Patricia’s gotta wash all these and we’re not _that_ sloppy!”  
  
“Well, I was thinking ahead again,” Rick whispered into Daryl’s ear.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Daryl asked, one eyebrow raised.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said as he quickly grabbed Daryl and switched places with him, laying flush on top of Daryl as his lover lay against the tub, a little water sloshing over the rim of the tub as he did so.  
  
“What’s goin’ on in that crazy mind of yours?” Daryl asked, a small grin on his face.  
  
Rick climbed onto Daryl’s lap, situated himself over his lover’s cock, and then slowly lowered himself onto it.  
  
“Oh fuck Rick!” Daryl moaned.  When Daryl was able to catch his breath and Rick could speak again, he looked at him in concern, “did you prepare yourself?”  
  
“No,” Rick nodded his head back and forth.  “But  I needed this,” he said as he raised himself up and them slammed himself back down, his hands gripping Daryl’s shoulders as he did so.  
  
“The things…you do…to me,” Daryl moaned as his gaze was steady with Rick’s, both men breathing in unison.  
  
And as he moved up and down on his lover’s cock, their quiet moans and grunts filling the bathroom, (having respect for everyone else in the house) the pain subsided and gave way to a lovely friction, Rick realizing how much he _had_ needed this.  
  
He really, really did.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, this is the second time in a week that I've had Rick ride Daryl (if you've read my 'Senses' story, you'll know what I'm talking about). Thing of it is, I LOVE the idea of Rick riding Daryl, and can't believe I haven't been able to write it in anywhere yet!
> 
> BTW, the idea for the tub scene, where the boys are shampooing each other, was an idea that was planted in my head by our very own [RickylLover](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RickylLover/pseuds/RickylLover).
> 
> Also, in the tv show, Hershel had admitted to Rick and Glenn that he realized that once Shane had shot up that walker, he knew he had been a fool. Problem was, Shane had gone off the deep end and opened the barn door himself, traumatizing Hershel's family. So this is my version, if Hershel had been dealt with more sanely.
> 
> Also, yep, none of the Atlanta group was at the farm. Why? Well, because if Carl had been shot, he would have needed a transfusion, and his blood type was rare, and Rick was the only one with it. Plus, Carl had gone off with Shane AND his dad on tv. He might not have gone with just Shane only.
> 
> Anywho, you'll have to stay tuned.
> 
> And give me a shout out, so I know I haven't lost anyone over my month long absence from this story.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit short but this chapter was originally waaay too long so I'll be posting over the next few days.
> 
> There's some gratuitous sex here. ;P

 

  
  
  
  
Daryl’s POV  
  
  
  
“Oh fuck Rick,” Daryl moaned sublimely, as he lay against the seat of the van, his legs sprawled about as he watched the curly head bob up and down on his cock.  
  
Fuck the apocalypse and fuck his life.  
  
He would gladly kill walkers, _thousands_ of them, and battle with any group, any day, as long as he continued to get this kind of treatment at least once a day by his enthusiastic and _skilled_ lover.  
  
 _Shouldn’t you be looking for that RV?_  
  
 _Yes, I should, but just…_  
  
Rick and Daryl had left the farm early in the morning, hoping to get a good start on the day, Daryl ignoring his straining erection, caused by him remembering the previous night’s wonderful bubble bath and the way Rick had capped off with an explosive round of sex, riding him until Daryl came violently, splashing most of the water onto the floor, thankful his considerate lover had put the towels down. 

After eating a mammoth breakfast courtesy of Patricia, and hugging and shaking hands with the inhabitants of said farm, Beth pulling both men down and kissing each cheek before whispering to the both of them to come save her from her daddy in a year, they spent another half an hour discussing with Hershel that if anything were to happen to the farm, if it should ever be compromised, that he and the rest of his family were to get in their vehicles and come straight to Cynthiana.  They assured him that his family would be welcome with open arms and that Maggie now knew the way, even though they still left maps showing the direct route, just in case.  
  
Hershel in turn, had made certain that Rick and Daryl understood that if anything were to happen to _their_ town, if _it_ should get compromised in any way, that they, and their group, would get their asses to his farm quickly, extending the same hospitality in return.  
  
When they were both convinced that the other would not hesitate to come to the other for help, Rick and Daryl made their good-byes once again and got into the van and drove off, armed with ten chickens, some sandwiches and fried chicken and a piglet, that they had still not decided a name on.  
  
Once they had arrived at the spot Maggie had told them about, the point where Sophia’s group had been attacked by the herd, where she had become separated from said group, they found that the RV was no longer there.  
  
Which meant one of two things.  
  
Either someone had come along and taken the abandoned RV _or_ that the group was still alive and that the word of the now deceased Dave and his lot was not worth shit.  
  
Rick and Daryl were in agreement on the latter.  
  
As far as Daryl was concerned, no one in their right mind would take off in a RV that was so prone to breaking down.  
  
Then again, how would one _know_ that the lumbering, gas-guzzling vehicle was so prone.  
  
So they followed the highway, to see if they could spot the RV somewhere down the line.  So far, there had been nothing but clear roads.  
  
While Daryl had watched outside the windshield, he started bitching about everything.  
  
All the little things.  
  
About the farm, about Merle, about where in the hell the group could be.  
  
Finally, after Rick had gotten tired of Daryl’s constant bitching about absolutely everything, his lover asked him what bee got in his bonnet.  
  
Daryl had truthfully told him, while blushing furiously, that he had a woody that wouldn’t go away and he was about to get blue balls and since he brought it up, that he didn’t appreciate Rick using the term ‘bonnet’ in anything in relation to him.  
  
At that Point, Rick pulled the van over immediately and turned it off.  Rick then kneeled before him in the spacious cab of the van and unzipped Daryl’s jeans.  Running his hand over his cock a few times, Rick gave his lover the most devious smile Daryl had ever seen before engulfing his rock hard cock.  
  
 _Well, that’ll work._  
  
Rick then proceeded to draw his lips upward, slowly, over his length, before he lapped at the head.  
  
His lover didn’t seem to be in any hurry as he treated his member as he would a popsicle on a hot day.  Rick licked up the underside, sending shivers down Daryl’s spine.  “Jesus!  You’re fuckin’ killing me,” Daryl practically sobbed as his head lay against the head rest of the car seat.  
  
Daryl looked down again, watching the way Rick licked around the sides and then the head, the way he would swallow the length and come back up for air.  The way his tongue lazily encircled all of him.  
  
His eyes were at half mast as his lolled around once more.  He looked out the window and noticed a walker casually strolling through the fields of tall, dry grass far away from them.  
  
It had no idea they were there, in the van and Daryl wanted to keep it that way.  He wanted nothing to disturb the sensual feeling of his lover paying so perfect attention to his cock.  
  
The way Rick was revering it, _adoring_ it lovingly.  
  
Daryl reveled in his state of bliss, until he could feel that telltale sensation, of everything in his body coming undone, his nerves on fire and cold as ice at the same time and he came.    
  
This time it was about relief, pure and simple.  
  
He spilled down Rick’s throat as he came down from his climax.  Still shuddering, Daryl looked down at his lover as he swallowed and pulled off, licking Daryl's spent cock clean.  
  
“Better?” Rick asked as he looked up at Daryl, licking his top lip with his tongue wantonly.  
  
And this was why Daryl sometimes woke up with a raging hard on.  
  
It was unfair.  
  
And it wasn’t his fault.  
  
His lover was the embodiment of every carnal fantasy he had _ever_ had.  
  
“Well, I was, but iffen you keep licking your lips like that,” Daryl started.  
  
“God!” Rick scoffed incredulously.  “How old are you?  Aren’t only teenagers supposed to be like, ready for sex every five minutes?”  
  
“Thirty-nine,” Daryl mumbled as he leaned over to kiss Rick.  
  
“Huh?” Rick said as he returned the chaste kiss.  
  
“You asked how old I was,” Daryl said.  
  
“Oh.  Okay,” Rick said as he looked thoughtful.  “Well you got amazin’ stamina,” Rick said as he hopped into his seat, an impish grin on his face, “for a man your age.”  
  
“Shut up,” Daryl barked, his smile giving away how he was not at all angry at Rick’s flippancy.  “‘Sides, ’s all your fault, why I get the way I do when ‘m around you.”  
  
“I’ll try to tone down,” Rick grinned, “whatever it is I do.”  
  
 _As if you believed he even could._  
  
Rick pulled out onto the road, both men staring out the windshield as they continued on.  
  
It was times like this, where neither of them would say anything, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence, that Daryl could truly savor the quiet, Rick not having the overwhelming urgency to idly chit chat.  
  
Daryl liked that about Rick.  
  
Merle always felt the need to jabber on, talk about everything that popped into his head, just as other people that had filtered through his life had done as well.  
  
Daryl leaned his head against the head rest yet again, watching the scenery as it passed by. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering what Rick had asked him last night in the bathtub.  
  
Whether he would kill Rick right away, if he happened to turn.  
  
He had of course told him he would kill him right away.  
  
But Daryl wondered what he would _truly_ do in such a situation.  
  
He had just found Rick.  The thought of losing him was too much to contemplate, but contemplate it he would for the sake of the hypothetical dilemma.  
  
Daryl could _almost_ see chaining Rick up, keeping him, _watching_ him.  Watching as Rick would try to snap at him, try to break out of his chains, a mindless creature always bringing himself to the end of the chain, just to hold him back in the end.  
  
He would sit and watch and observe, until it would sink into his thick skull that the thing before him was no longer Rick, the man he fell in love with, the man he was lucky enough to have found, basically, at the end of it all.  
  
And even though it would be the last time he would ever see his lover in an animated form, he would kill him.  
  
He would let him go because in the end, he would know _that_ wasn’t his Rick.  
  
“Penny for your thoughts?” Rick asked.  
  
“Thinking ‘bout stuff.  Stuff and…things,” Daryl muttered.  
  
“M always thinking ‘bout stuff and thangs too,” Rick scoffed.  
  
“ _Thangs_ , huh?” Daryl grinned.  
  
“Shut up,” Rick snickered.  
  
Before Daryl could respond, he saw a very familiar sight along the highway.  
  
It was an RV.  
  
And there was a man sitting on top.  
  
He would know that fisherman’s hat anywhere.  
  
“Oh God,” Daryl said.  “Rick. That’s them.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUNNNN!!!!
> 
> Uh oh....


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is a long one and the POVs shift. So this would be the second part (and final part) of the super long chapter.

  
  
  
  
Merle’s POV  
  
  
  
After having completed his mission, Merle cautiously made his way back to the ‘ranch,’ the house they all shared, which was starting to get crowded if you asked him, which, well, no one did.  
  
Despite the fact that Rick’s house, a pretty cottage-style dwelling, complete with a white picket fence no less, was in an area they had not yet cleared, which meant he had had to deal with some pesky walkers, he still needed to get this particular job done.  
  
Just in case.  
  
Because it would only be a matter of time before they started clearing this section of town and someone would run into that very cozy, very middle America home and find evidence of who Rick Grimes actually _was_.  
  
Merle had cleared the sheriff’s station of anything relating to Rick before the whole Jersey boys’ situation had gone down, remembering Daryl’s questioning of what he had been looking for there only moments before.  
  
He had amassed together his files, his picture on the wall, and anything else that might link back to him.    
  
He even went through all the lockers, trying to find the one that had belonged to him.  
  
 _Guess they bump your locker to someone else when you’re in a coma for over a month._  
  
Because he had acquired Rick’s file, he had also acquired his home address.  
  
Taking advantage of Daryl and Rick’s absence, he had made his way to that part of town, located the house and systematically went through every room, every corner, every _fucking_ square inch.  
  
The kitchen cupboards, the bathroom cabinets, desks, files.  
  
 _Everything._  
  
Lori had obviously taken any and all photos with her when she had hightailed it out of there with Shane and Carl.  
  
But there were other things left behind that she hadn’t thought to take, things that wouldn’t mean anything now that the system had broken down.  
  
Things like paperwork, which had Rick’s name at the top of each and every one of its pages.  
  
After having cleared the desk of anything of that particular nature, he had made his way to the master bedroom.  
  
Namely, Lori and Rick’s bedroom.  
  
It had been hard to go through there, being such an intimate place of theirs, but he had all the same.  
  
That was usually where their group would end up, the perfect place to watch everything as it went down on the streets below and was consequently, usually the place where family photos could be found.  
  
He knew that Lori and Rick were having marital problems when he had seen Lori’s side of the bed, assuming she had had the side with the romance novel, complete with its bodice-ripping hero.  He saw the other books as well.  The ones titled, “Fighting for your Marriage,” “Getting the Love you Want,” and “Divorce Busting.”  
  
Of course there was another book, hidden under all the other ones.    
  
The one titled “When to Call it Quits.”  
  
Merle suspected Lori had hidden _that_ particular one for a damn good reason.  
  
The reason no doubt being that _that_ was the one Lori hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, but in the end, realized that would be the most important book of them all.  
  
He had sat on the bed, sighing as he took in the scene before him.  
  
Merle knew he had never been a smart man, but he knew how to add two and two.  
  
Going through Rick’s wallet, which he had spotted on the other bedside table, he found the usual round of credit cards, triple A card, and some business cards.    
  
All useless now.  
  
And staring back at him from the transparent window on the right side of said wallet, was Rick’s driver’s license.  
  
 _Well I’ll be damned._  
  
Based on the appearance of Rick’s freshly shaven face after that first shower, and that ‘baby soft complexion’ Daryl went on and on about, Merle had always suspected Rick was probably somewhere in his mid-thirties.  
  
And his suspicions had been correct.  
  
He almost wished he could show the license to Daryl, show him how his new boyfriend was four years _younger_ than him.  
  
How Daryl was the _older man_ in the relationship.  
  
Gathering whatever he could, he stashed all the documents and the wallet and anything else he could find with Rick’s picture or name on it, including the over flowing mail from the porch, into the large garbage bags, then walked them to the trash cans at the back of the house.  
  
He had thought about burning any evidence, then decided against it.  
  
If Rick ever got his memory back and he decided to go straight home, he would no doubt get quite suspicious about everything missing, so Merle had left room for a little contingency plan.  
  
Just in case.  
  
He stored everything where he could easily retrieve it again.  Then if need be, put everything back in its place, more or less.  
  
 _You really are thinking more clearly now, aren’t you?_  
  
 _You’re like a goddamned walking anti-drug campaign._  
  
Hopefully though, Rick would never get his memory back, if nothing else, for Daryl’s sake.  
  
And his own.  
  
Putting all that crap back would be a major bitch.  
  
However, Merle couldn’t help but feel that he was forgetting something.  
  
Something else that could backfire horribly.  
  
Shrugging it off, he continued on his way.  He had just passed into their cleared area when he started receiving static from his walkie talkie.  
  
“Merle?” came the voice.  
  
Morgan.  
  
“Hey, miss me?” Merle snickered.  
  
“Like a cold sore on your ass that won’t go away,” Morgan scoffed.  
  
If there was anyone he had to be stuck in the apocalypse with, he was glad it was someone like Morgan.  
  
“What’s up?” Merle asked, hoping it wasn’t something terrible.  
  
Morgan was on watch up in the tower, and Merle had been just a bit anxious, waiting for his brother to get back from their trip.  
  
“The boys are coming back, and they’re not alone,” Morgan said.  
  
“What now?” Merle asked, that anxious feeling starting to sink down into his gut.  
  
“They got an RV following them,” Morgan said.  
  
“An…an _RV_?” Merle sputtered, that anxious feeling now traveling up to all parts of his body.  “Can you see the driver?”  
  
“No, not really, wait…yeah,” Morgan said.  “Got one of those stupid fishing hats on.  Duane got me one of those for my…”  
  
Merle almost dropped the walkie talkie on the pavement where he stood.  
  
They found them.  
  
 _Oh fuck._  
  
  
  
  
  
Rick’s POV  (earlier that same day)  
  
  
  
Rick watched as Daryl walked cautiously up to the RV, his crossbow at the ready, Rick’s own Colt cocked and ready to go.  
  
He almost sighed in relief when a group of people emerged from the side of the motorhome, stopping in their tracks as they confronted Rick and Daryl.  
  
“Daryl?” an Asian man asked, surprise written all over his face.  He threw his hands into the air as soon as he spotted the crossbow, “Whoa!”  
  
Daryl looked over the group of people before he lowered his crossbow.  “Put your goddamned hands down,” he muttered.  “Wanted to make sure none of you was walkers.”  
  
Rick looked at the group that stood before him.  
  
There stood the Asian man, a woman with a curly blonde mane of hair, a sour look on her face, and a thin woman with extremely short, gray hair who looked about as lost as anyone he had ever seen.  
  
 _Oh yeah?_  
  
 _You did get a good look at yourself in the mirror after you woke up, right?_  
  
“Daryl!” an elderly man exclaimed as he climbed down from the roof of the RV.  
  
“Dale,” Daryl nodded at said man.  His lover looked behind him to Rick and started pointing at people.  “That’s Glenn,” he said as he pointed to the Asian man.  
  
“Hi,” Glenn waved.  
  
“That’s Andrea,” Daryl continued as he pointed at the blonde, who nodded to Rick.  “And that’s Carol,” he said as he nodded in the direction of the older woman.  “We got Sophia.”  
  
Daryl was never the type to mince words.  
  
Rick watched as Carol put her hands in front of her mouth, a look of shock, _welcome_ shock albeit, appearing on her face.  Her eyes teared up quite suddenly before she brought her hands away from her mouth, an unsure smile hovering.  
  
Andrea moved in to hug the speechless woman, Carol finally finding her voice, “really?”  
  
“You think I’d joke ‘bout something like that?!” Daryl huffed.  “Got her back at town.”  
  
Before Daryl knew what had hit him, Carol flung herself toward him, surprise written all over his face, “Oh God!” she cried.  “I thought she was dead!” the woman continued to cry.  
  
Rick looked around him at Dale and Glenn, who had equal looks of surprise on their faces.  
  
“Thank you!  Thank you!” she cried again as she stepped back and looked at Daryl intently.  “Is she…is she _okay_?  Is my baby okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl nodded.  “We saved her from…Dave…and these guys…we can talk ‘bout this later…back at town.  She’s got this room…looks like someone threw up Pepto Bismol all over it…”  
  
“We?” Carol said, Andrea moving in next to her as both women turned their attention on Rick.  
  
“This is Rick,” Daryl said as he moved in to stand at his side, smiling widely at Rick when introducing him.  “He’s the one that saved her really.”  
  
Carol put her hand over her mouth again before stepping forward and throwing her arms around Rick, hugging him tightly.  “Thank you,” she cried once more.  
  
Rick nodded his head at the relieved woman after she had released him.  
  
She stepped back and regarded Rick, looking at him closely.  “You…”  
  
“You guys say something about a town?” Glenn interrupted, jumping up and down excitedly.  
  
“Yeah, Cynthiana,” Daryl said.  “Me, Rick and Merle been clearing it.  With help from a guy named Morgan and his son.”  
  
“Merle?!” Andrea asked incredulously.  
  
“A town?” Glenn asked again, a wistful look on his face.  “Like with houses and beds and running water and… _beds_?  Tell me there are beds!”  
  
“He’s…different now,” Daryl shrugged, ignoring Glenn, his attention focused on Andrea and her disbelief of Merle being anything but a giant pain in the ass.  
  
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Andrea scoffed.  
  
“Hey now,” Rick said, “Merle’s a good guy.”  He looked at the other people as he had proclaimed Merle ‘alright.’  Andrea seemed to still be unconvinced, Dale seemed a bit surprised and a little bit pleased, Glenn didn’t seem to give a two bit fuck as he just seemed more interested in hearing about the town and Carol continued to study Rick.  
  
She was probably wondering when they were going to get the show on the road so she could see her daughter again.  
  
“Anyway, that’s where we found Rick and the others,” Daryl said.  
  
“Are you from Cynthiana as well?” Dale asked.  
  
“Um…I…don’t know,” Rick sighed.  
  
“Okay,” Glenn said, a frown on his face.  “That’s usually not a hard question.”  
  
“Oh for fuck sake!” Daryl yelled.  “He was in a coma in the hospital there.  He don’t remember who he is!  Stop badgering the man!”  
  
“Asking him where he’s from is _badgering_ now?” Dale asked defensively.  He then turned his attention on Rick, “ _total_ amnesia?!”  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said eagerly. “You know anything ‘bout it?  Amnesia, I mean.”  
  
“No,” Dale said as he shook his head.  “Just, I’ve never met anyone…”  
  
“Dale!” Daryl barked.  “He’s not some damn _freak_ of nature or…er…science!  Just, shut up.”  
  
“I don’t remember you getting this excited before,” Dale pointed out calmly.  “You’re very protective of…”  
  
“Dale!” Daryl yelled again.  “That piece of shit of yours break down again?” he said, trying to divert Dale’s attention from Rick.  
  
And Daryl’s protectiveness of him.  
  
“Huh?  Oh yeah,” Dale said.  “I’ve got extra hoses though.  Glenn was working on getting it changed before you drove up.”  
  
“Where’s the rest of the group?  Lori?  Shane?  Carl?” Daryl asked.  
  
 _Carl._  
  
Something shifted deep within Rick when he heard that name again.  
  
It was painful, a dull ache that wouldn’t go away.  
  
It felt like regret, apprehension.  
  
But above all, it felt like _loss._  
  
Maybe Carl had been someone close to him.  Like his father or a brother.  
  
 _Or, something else._  
  
Brushing it aside for now, since there was no way he could do anything about it anyway, he brought himself back into the conversation again, Carol looking at Rick more closely now.  
  
“Shane,” Glenn scoffed.  “Took Lori and Carl and made off in some Kia.  _A Kia!_ There was a time I would’ve appreciated the irony in that more.”  
  
“He took off for Fort Benning,” Dale waved his hand away dismissively.  
  
“He didn’t wanna help us look for Sophia anymore,” Andrea said, a frown of disapproval on her face.  
  
Rick expected Carol to weigh in on the matter.  After all, the man, who according to Merle and Daryl had been a sheriff’s deputy, abandoned their search to look for her little girl.  
  
Instead when he looked over at Carol, she didn’t say a word.  
  
She just kept looking at him, as if she were studying him.  
  
Rick couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with her.  
  
She was probably hungry and emotionally drained.  
  
And all this time, she had probably thought her daughter was dead.    
  
Or worse.  
  
“Why don’t we help you get that hose on so you guys can come back to town with us,” Rick said.  “We have some food we can share for now.”  
  
“Oh thank God,” Andrea moaned delightedly.  
  
“This farmer down the road, gave us some food, cause we brought his daughter back to him,” Daryl started.  
  
“Farmer’s daughter, huh?” Glenn smiled and winked at Daryl.  
  
“Shut up,” Daryl said back.  “So’s we gotta lotta food we can share until we get back on the road.”  
  
“He also gave us some chickens so we can have fresh eggs,” Rick chimed in.  
  
“Oh, how I miss eggs,” Dale said wistfully.  
  
“We got this chicken back home, Cinnamon,” Daryl started.  
  
“Cinnamon chicken?” Andrea said.  “Sounds like an Indian dish.”  
  
“She’s not for eating!” Daryl exclaimed.  “Anyway, that farmer gave us a pig too so’s we can have some pork when it gets bigger,” he said, Rick growling in the background.  
  
“Okay, I’m _really_ hungry now,” Glenn said.  
  
“Hungry?!” Andrea snickered.  “We’re _starving_!”  
  
“I was starving before,” Glenn said.  “But there’s food now.  So, now I’m _hungry_.”  
  
“That makes no sense whatsoever,” Andrea said.  
  
“It makes perfect sense,” Dale shrugged, defending Glenn's logic.  
  
“You are so weird,” Andrea smiled before putting her hand on Dale’s shoulder.  
  
Rick figured he could get to like these people.  
  
“How ‘bout I help Andrea and Carol put together some lunch while Daryl helps you two with the hose?” Rick said.  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Dale said.  
  
And with that, Rick went to the van with the other two women to get the sandwiches and friend chicken laid out.  
  
If they could get the hose installed and the RV running, they would be back on the road in no time.  
  
Rick turned around to find Carol looking right back at him, an amused smirk wide on her face.  
  
  
  
  
Merle’s POV  
  
  
Merle ran up to the oncoming vehicles frantically, watching as the van parked in the cleared zone, the RV parking behind it.  
  
“Hey Merle!” Rick called out, a big smile on his face as he patted the man on the back.  “Miss us?”  
  
“Like a cold sore on…something,” Merle responded, his attention completely focused on the RV.  
  
“Right,” Rick frowned.   
  
_Okay, this doesn’t seem right._  
  
Rick seemed, well, normal.  
  
Not like a man who just discovered he had a wife and a kid and a wife-stealing best friend.  
  
Merle watched as his baby brother got out of the van as well.  “Got some chickens Merle!” Daryl said excitedly.  “And they lay eggs.  Got a pig too.  Rick’s been wantin’ to name it ‘Violet’ but I told him he should name it ‘Merle,’ so he’ll wanna kill it when time comes to eat it,” his brother snickered as he elbowed Merle in the side.  
  
“We’re not naming it after your brother Daryl,” Rick said as he bumped shoulders with his brother.  “‘Sides Violet’s too cute to be named Merle.  No offense Merle,” he said in all seriousness to him.  
  
“None taken,” Merle said off-handedly.  
  
 _What the hell?_  
  
Merle watched as the people in the RV disembarked.  
  
Dale.  
  
Check.  
  
That Chinese kid, Glenn.  
  
Check.  
  
Andrea.  
  
Check.  
  
And oh what a sight she was too see!  
  
Carol.  
  
Check.  And there she went, running into her daughter's arms.  
  
Everyone watched as Carol held onto Sophia tightly, hugging and kissing her daughter, both crying as they embraced fiercely, the two happy and content as they were both safe and secure in each other’s arms once again.  
  
And then he waited.  
  
No one else emerged out of the RV.  
  
Merle ran up to the vehicle briskly, peering inside cautiously, expecting Shane and Lori to jump out at him.  
  
“Shane?  Lori and Carl?” Merle asked anxiously as he turned to the group standing around.  
  
“Off to Fort Benning,” Glenn said as he looked back, taking a small break from talking animatedly with Duane.  
  
“Said he didn’t wanna wait,” Dale shrugged.  “That he figured Sophia was as good as dead,” the older man said, wincing when he looked over at Carol.  “Said his first priority was Lori and Carl,” he finished as he turned back to his conversation with Bob and Morgan.  
  
Carol walked up to Merle, Rick and Daryl, Sophia close in tow.  
  
“So…they’re like _gone_?” Merle asked, small beads of sweat appearing on his brow.  “Like _forever_?”  
  
“Forever ever,” Daryl shrugged.  “What’s gotten into you? You hated Shane.”  
  
Merle cleared his throat as he stood more casually than before.  
  
It seemed his secret was safe.  
  
At least for now.  
  
“That’s why I gotta know where Shane’s at, baby brother,” Merle said indignantly.  
  
Rick laughed at Merle before he nodded in Daryl’s direction, his brother shaking his head and smirking as well.  Following Rick’s lead, Daryl followed his boyfriend, heading back to the house.  
  
Carol watched the both of them leave before she leaned over and kissed the top of Sophia’s head.  “You go up and get my place next to yours ready,” she said, a large smile on her face as Sophia hugged her mother once more and skipped away, catching up with Rick and Daryl.  
  
“I like Sophia,” Merle muttered.  “’S good she’s back with her momma.”  
  
Carol nodded happily, watching the retreating form of her daughter.  “Ain’t that something?  Rick losing his memory like that.  No knowledge of who or what he was.”  
  
“Yeah,” Merle huffed, not really wanting to make any small talk with the woman.  “I gotta git to some stuff,” Merle said as he started to turn away.  
  
“You know, they make a cute couple,” Carol said, stopping Merle in his tracks.  
  
 _What did those idiots do?_  
  
 _Fuck each other in front of her?_  
  
“Yeah, they do,” Merle nodded.  “Don’t tell him I said that. Neither of ‘em,” he said quickly.  
  
Carol looked back at the two men in the distance, talking to each other, Daryl’s hand on Rick’s hip as Sophia came running up to the both of them happily.  
  
“So,” Carol said as she looked directly at Merle.  “You know, don’t you?”  
  
“What now?” Merle asked.  “I don’t know nothin.’”  
  
 _Where the hell is_ this _going?_  
  
“You know.  Who Rick is,” Carol said.  
  
“What the hell you talking ‘bout woman?” Merle scoffed.  
  
He was pretty sure his voice was getting higher the longer he spoke with her.  
  
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Carol said sternly, her blissful face suddenly turning serious.  “I saw you sweating when you were trying to find out what happened to Shane.”  
  
“Of course!  That fucker kicked me outta the group!” Merle yelled back.  Then more quietly, he leaned in to Carol, “ _you_ know who Rick is?”  
  
“Don’t give me that act.  And, yes, I know who the hell he is!” Carol barked.  
  
“How?” Merle asked, feeling completely defeated.  
  
“Lori was always talking about her husband to me in private.  The one who died in the hospital.  How he got shot.  How he was Shane’s best friend.  How he was such a _good_ man.  About how they were having problems in their marriage.  How he was too _reasonable_.  That’s why their marriage could never work.  Cause Rick was too _reasonable_ ,” Carol huffed.  “One day, I was doing their laundry, so I sneaked a peek into her photo album.  I wanted to see what a reasonable,” Carol said, making air quotes around the word ‘reasonable,’ “man looked like cause Lord help me, I ain't never known one.  I saw Rick’s picture.  I never forgot his face.”  
  
Merle would have normally taken the time to think about how someone like Lori was the kind of person who always had everything they wanted, but still never seemed to be happy.  
  
And people like Carol were stuck with men like that sadistic fuck she had been married to, and couldn’t understand why people like Lori were complaining about their perfect little lives.  
  
He would have also wondered how it was a woman like Carol, who was victimized everyday by that asshole husband of hers, was able to get such a clear read on someone like Merle, which if he thought about it long enough, didn’t sit very well with him.  
  
But he had bigger problems at the moment.  
  
“So, what’re you planning on doing ‘bout it?” Merle replied angrily.  “Gonna go tell him.  Watch him run after that whore and his so called best friend?  Get hisself killed chasing after ‘em?”  
  
 _Break your brother’s heart._  
  
“I know what happened in that camp,” Carol said as she shook her head.  “I know if Rick found Lori and Shane again, Shane would feel like a second wheel, that he would resent his best friend who came back from the dead.  He’s so deep in with Lori.  Carl and her are his family now.  That man wouldn’t stop at getting his way.  That is, if Rick doesn’t get himself killed chasing ghosts.  Besides, Rick doesn’t remember his family.  It’s best he doesn’t know.  He’s _happy_.  With Daryl,” she smiled, before she turned on Merle, one eyebrow raised.  “But of course you don’t know any of this cause you don’t know who Rick is, do you?” she droned.  
  
“That’s right,” Merle nodded.  “Just so we’re clear on that.”  
  
“Crystal,” Carol said, as she crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
Merle turned around to walk away before Carol stopped him again.  “I’m sure you cleared Rick’s house and maybe even the sheriff’s station.  Did you do Shane’s apartment yet?”  
  
“What now?” Merle said as he turned around.  
  
“Did.  You.  Do.  Shane’s.  Apartment,” Carol said, reiterating each word carefully.  
  
 _That_ was what he had forgotten.  
  
The asshole’s apartment.  
  
“No,” Merle said, as a child would to their mother as they reprimanded them.  
  
“Go.  _Now._ I’ll make some excuses for you,” Carol said.  
  
 _When did she get so scary?_  
  
“Yes ma’am,” Merle said before peering up at her.  “When’d you get all demanding and shit?  You were always scared of your own damn shadow ‘fore.”  
  
“I’m different now,” Carol said, as she stood taller and with more conviction.  “Being the way I was before almost got my baby killed.  Ed’s gone.  I’m not gonna be that pathetic _thing_ ever again.”  
  
“Well, okay then,” Merle nodded, turning around.  
  
“And Merle,” Carol said.  
  
“For the love of all fucking holy!  What now woman!?” Merle groused.  
  
“This may be the end of the world, but for godsake, brush your damn teeth!” Carol huffed.  
  
Merle watched as Carol turned and walked away.  
  
He knew where Shane’s apartment was.  Turning around again, checking to make sure Carol wouldn’t stop him once more, he made his way in that direction.  
  
On the way, he would raid the local grocery store for a damn toothbrush.  
  
  
  
  
Carol’s POV  
  
  
From the moment Daryl told her they had Sophia, a cloud, thick with despair and loneliness and regret, lifted from her shoulders, and brought her back into the present, removing the fog that had blinded her eyes and her mind.  
  
No longer did she ignore anything going on around her.  
  
No longer did she not care about her own survival, or the group’s.  
  
She felt as if she could _breathe_ again, the weight of that despair no longer crushing down on her.  
  
She had been so happy to see Daryl again, remembering him as being the only man who was not only nice to her, actually most of the men in camp had been, but was also one of the few people in the camp who _got_ her, who had more in common with her than anybody else in that camp.  
  
She knew a former abuse victim when she saw one.  
  
So when he had stepped out of his van and told her about Sophia, she thought it was Christmas and her birthday all over again, because that was surely the best present anyone had ever given her.  
  
And to know he had been keeping her _safe_ was just icing on the cake.  
  
When he stepped aside to introduce Rick, Carol had instantly known who he was, now that her mind was clear and she could concentrate on other things.  
  
So when Rick didn’t seem to be asking about Lori and Carl right away, Carol knew something was up.  
  
Yes, Lori and Rick had been having problems, Lori said as much, but that wouldn’t haven’t stopped someone like Rick from wanting to know where his wife and son were.  
  
Until she had heard about the amnesia and then it all started to fall into place.  
  
That included the way Daryl had looked at Rick with adoration.  
  
The man was positively _in love_ with Rick.  
  
And from what she could see, the feeling was mutual.  
  
Carol sighed when she realized that Daryl was off the market.  She had been interested in the man before, but never voiced it out loud in her head for fear that Ed could hear her thoughts.  
  
But if Daryl was of interest to her, Rick was positively _fascinating_!  
  
Not in a way where she wanted him for herself, although she noticed Andrea checking him out, but in a completely different way.  
  
Just watching him for the brief time she had been with him, she knew immediately Lori had been wrong.  
  
Rick was in no way, shape or form, a _reasonable_ man.  
  
He was much _better_ than that.  
  
There was a fire lingering within that man, someone to truly reckon with.  
  
He had been reasonable with Lori, because he had wanted to give her whatever she wanted.  
  
But this man, a man who had no knowledge of his family, who wasn’t anchored by obligations to them, would be a force unto his own.  
  
He could lead them.  
  
He could be what they needed.  
  
Lori was with Shane now.  She had moved on.  
  
Now Rick could move on too.  
  
Rick belonged to _them_ now.  
  
Although, Carol did feel a bit of regret in regards to Carl.  
  
The boy needed his father, but he had Shane now, and that man would protect him, because he would protect Lori.  
  
And because, for all of Shane’s posturing, he had loved his best friend.  He would protect Carl because of _Rick._  
  
Walking into the kitchen, she smiled as she took in the faces she knew, as well as some new faces, Bob and Morgan.  Duane had taken off with Sophia earlier.  
  
They all seemed to be standing around the kitchen table, looking every now and then at the ceiling.  
  
And then there was a sudden bump above them, some giggling, and then some more bumping and knocking.  
  
“They roughhouse sometimes,” Morgan shrugged.    
  
She then heard the unmistakable sound of Daryl… _swearing_?  
  
“You get used to it,” Bob and Morgan said in unison.  
  
“They’re,” Carol stuttered.  “ _Now?!_ ”  
  
“Daryl’s got like some...super hero stamina,” Bob said.  
  
“So they really are?” Andrea said as she pointed up, more swearing and knocking being heard.  
  
“Yeah,” Morgan nodded.  “That’s why they wanted to know where Duane and Sophia were.”  
  
“Where are they, by the way?” Carol asked.  
  
“Chicken coop,” Morgan said.  “Don’t worry.  It’s safe.  Speaking of which, where’s Merle?”  
  
“Doing some kind of… _thing_ ,” Carol waved away dismissively.

"He's always doing some kind of _thing_ ," Morgan huffed.  
  
Just then, some of the plaster around the kitchen light on the ceiling, came raining down over Dale and Andrea.  
  
“So, show of hands,” Bob said.  “Who thinks Daryl and Rick should get their own place?”  
  
Carol watched as everyone raised their hands.  
  
She kept her hands firmly down at her sides.  
  
Two beautiful men, playful and frisky in the hallway, kissing like teenagers?  
  
She rather liked the idea of the free show.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Merle’s POV  
  
  
  
  
After having gone through Shane’s entire apartment, not that it was that big, Merle had gotten quite the stash.  
  
Unlike Lori, Shane hadn’t left with a photo album or anything like that.  
  
Merle had gathered pictures of Shane and Rick fishing and pictures of them in their deputy uniforms and pictures of them at the races and even a picture of Shane, Carl and Rick at some baseball game.  
  
They had been scattered all about on the refrigerator, held on by magnets, and the few side tables and what seemed like every available space in the main living area.  
  
Merle had found a picture that seemed to hold a sacred spot on Shane’s fireplace mantel.  
  
It was of a young Shane and Rick, posing in front of a bright shiny Jeep, both smiling brightly at each other, harking back to a much happier time.

Then Merle had made his way to Shane’s bedroom.  
  
If there had ever been a fuck pad, _this_ was it.  
  
It may not have sported a waterbed, but there was a large king size bed covered in red, satin sheets.  Instead of harsh light fixtures, there were only two small lamps, one on each side of the massive bed, proclaiming Shane the master of mood lighting.    
  
There was even a damn guitar in the corner, no doubt his way of impressing the many women he had entertained there.  
  
No doubt about it.  
  
Shane was a player.  
  
Merle had contemplated taking a whiz over the bed, sort of a ‘fuck you’ to the man who had kicked him and his brother, mainly him, out of their group, but he decided against it.  
  
He actually liked the place and thought maybe, just maybe, he would claim the apartment for his own.  
  
Maybe fuck Andrea in that king sized bed.  
  
He wondered what Shane would have to say about that.  
  
So he seated himself on the bed, looking around for any more photos.  He saw the closet, but knew no one would ever look in a shoe box full of pictures.  
  
He then noticed the bedside table.  
  
Now, Merle was the kind of man who liked to think of himself as being above the type of man who liked to thumb through issues of Playboy and Hustler and Penthouse and even some of the raunchier tittie magazines.  
  
But that would be a lie.  
  
He may be clean, his mind clear and drug-free, but he wasn’t _dead_.  
  
He _lived_ for that kind of shit.  
  
The raunchier the magazine, the better, as far as he was concerned.  
  
And if he knew Shane, the man probably had some of the best tittie magazines in his bedside table, the always perfect jerk off material if ever there was.  
  
Merle stopped before he opened the drawer.  
  
Then he remembered how Shane took to Lori so quickly.  
  
Merle sighed when he realized, without even opening the drawer yet, that there was a fifty fifty chance there would be lewd magazines in there but an equal chance there would be pictures of Lori Grimes, in poses and positions the woman never having known she had been posing for.  
  
Or maybe there were _blatant_ pictures of the missus, Lori maybe already having fooled around with her husband’s best friend during the coma.  
  
Or even before.  
  
Grimacing, Merle slowly opened the drawer.  
  
There were no issues of Playboy, Hustler or Penthouse or any other dirty magazines.  
  
Not a one.  
  
Just photos.  
  
Many, _many_ photos.  
  
And it was one of the Grimes all right.  
  
But it wasn’t the fairer one.  
  
Merle flipped through each and every photo, almost wanting to throw up as he did so.  
  
One photo was of a much younger Rick, possibly high school, with his longish, curly hair, a wide smile, and shirtless as he washed a beaten up muscle car from the seventies.  
  
Another photo was of Rick on top of a rock, clad in only a pair of swim trunks, ready to dive into the icy, cold lake.  
  
Merle looked at the next picture, Rick in nothing but a towel around his midsection, one hand securely holding up the towel while his other hand was trying desperately to reach out to the photographer, indicating not to get a picture of him in that particular state of undress.  
  
Another had Rick in his squad car, laying back and napping.  
  
There was a photo of Rick, probably in his early twenties, laying in the back of a pick up truck, one hand around a beer bottle, his shirt riding up offering the viewer a tiny sliver of skin.  He was completely passed out.  
  
Another photo of a sleeping Rick was him in their bed back at the Grimes’ household, only Lori’s hand in the picture.  Merle shivered when he thought of Shane having taken _that_ particular photo.  
  
There were so many.  
  
So many of Rick throughout the years, from high school, through the police academy and to the present, before the walkers had taken over the world.  
  
Merle then took special note of the pictures on top of the stack.  
  
He _knew_ that place.  
  
It was the showers at the sheriffs station.  
  
There were several pictures of Rick taking a shower there.  
  
One with him leaning back and washing his hair.  Another with him leaning forward as he let the water cascade down his back, Rick all the while completely oblivious to anyone having caught him unawares.  
  
Merle sighed yet again, as he surveyed the stack before him.  
  
Some of the photos had been taken with Rick’s complete knowledge, him only thinking they had been innocent tokens, _souvenirs_ of his time together with his best friend.  
  
But the rest were taken without Rick’s knowledge or consent and were _far_ from innocent.  
  
He would bet every last chicken they had just gotten from the Greene farm that Rick had never known about Shane’s true intentions.  
  
The pictures spanned at least twenty years.  
  
This was no mere crush.  
  
Shane had been _obsessed_ with Rick for a long, damn time.  
  
Merle knew that Shane could _never_ come back to their town, but not for the reasons Carol gave.  
  
If that asshole ever made it to their neck of the woods, he would have to kill Shane.  
  
To protect his baby brother.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, Kia is a car company from South Korea.
> 
> I REALLY want to know what you think about this chapter.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back after dropping the Shane bombshell. :)
> 
> And we continue our drama...

  
  
  
Daryl’s POV

  
  
“I sure do _love_ having our own place now,” Daryl hummed as he continued to kiss along Rick’s bare hipbones.  
  
Rick always smelled so delectable after he gave himself a sponge bath, washing with the almond soap Daryl had picked up one day, his lover’s natural musk mixing perfectly with the nutty smell of the aromatic.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick sighed as Daryl continued to nudge along the hem of his sweatpants with his nose.  
  
Daryl took a moment to look up at his lover, Rick reclining back against the pillow, his eyes closed, a dreamy smile adorning his face as the morning sun from the open window shined on him, setting him aglow in its warming rays.  
  
 _Beautiful!_  
  
 _And he’s all mine._  
  
“Gonna pull these down some more,” Daryl teased as he wriggled the offending waistband farther down Rick’s slim hips, that wonderful treasure trail becoming more exposed.  
  
“Whatcha doin?’” Rick giggled softly as Daryl blew across his groin softly.  “That tickles.”  
  
Daryl really loved that they had the house all to themselves now.  
  
They could wear whatever they wanted, or as _little_ as they wanted, around the house.  
  
They could take long, cold showers for as long as they wanted (the frigid temperature of the water never seeming to bother them as they got up to other kinds of mischief in there).  
  
They could grab ass as much as they wanted, without the reproachful glares sent their way.  
  
And most importantly, especially to Daryl, they could be as _loud_ as they wanted when they were fooling around.  
  
Daryl remembered how it had gone down only a week prior, when it had become apparent that the house would no longer accommodate everyone, so the group had decided how they would split up.  
  
Of course the first thing they had all stated, at the same time and with the same enthusiasm, except for Carol strangely enough, was that Rick and Daryl should get their own home.  
  
They had made some noises and displayed their mock outrage, but when Daryl had turned to look at Rick, he gave him a salacious wink, his lover responding by eye fucking him in that way that always went straight to his cock and made him wish they were alone.  
  
Which now, it seemed, would be more often than not.  
  
They were to live in the small, one-story house, a craftsman style 1930’s bungalow, next door to the current house they had all been residing in.  
  
It had been agreed that Morgan and Carol would share the current house, as they could continue to shelter the children in the attic, namely Sophia and Duane, the group being very careful not to use the word ‘children’ when discussing them.  
  
Andrea, Glenn and Dale had decided to take the three-bedroom house next door to the bungalow, the three of them having become quite close during their time together.    
  
Bob was given the choice as to whose house he would settle in.  He had chosen Morgan’s since he could have his own bedroom.  
  
And Merle?  
  
Why Merle took some upstairs’ apartment above one of the storefronts.  He said it had belonged to some guy who had been a confirmed bachelor by the looks of it.  Mainly he had said it would be a great spot for him to keep an eye on the town.  
  
So they all had settled in.  
  
The small street that was their tiny neighborhood was completely encircled by two types of barriers.  Where the earth was forgiving, they dug deep trenches, courtesy of a working backhoe, which as it seemed, was a person’s best friend in an apocalypse.  
  
Where the earth was _not_ forgiving, like asphalt, they had erected sturdy barriers, such as shipping containers they had trucked in that had been abandoned in town.  They served as perfect walls.  There was one opening with a heavy rolling gate they could drive through.  
  
It all worked perfectly.  
  
And each and every day there were less and less of the walkers falling into the ditches, which meant they were well and truly clearing the town.  
  
Of course, the diversion they had set up at the other end of town, helped keep the walkers from their neck of the woods.  
  
They had started off by setting cars with their alarms all set to go off.  All that was needed was a small push, like from Morgan up on the water tower who would shoot at one of the cars, thereby setting off the alarm, whatever walkers left in town making their way over to the distraction.  
  
Another one was leaving cars on a jack stand, its wheels running aimlessly while it stayed in place, the revving engine bringing masses of the undead to its beck and call.  
  
The distractions worked, and allowed the group to gather supplies, run their quiet and muffled generators and build their barriers and set traps and dig ditches while they dispatched with the walkers who had fallen for their hoax.  
  
However, the group never fooled themselves or took their relative security for granted.  
  
They always had someone stand watch at the tower, usually in pairs and always armed.  
  
When the Atlanta group had arrived at Cynthiana, (the 'Atlanta' group now only consisting of Carol, Dale, Andrea and Glenn) it had taken a few days for them to figure out how to work together, but they had and now they were functioning quite well as one unit, whether it be digging a ditch, clearing a store before gathering supplies, or shooting groups of walkers.  
  
They had made a safe place for them to survive, while living _amongst_ the undead.  
  
But despite how far they had come (and in an _extremely_ short period of time), they knew they were just _coping_.  
  
“Hope the next group of people that come to town have at least one civil engineer,” Rick sighed as he allowed Daryl to nuzzle his privates, the man having pulled his sweatpants down to just below his cock.  
  
Daryl wished he could find the people necessary to make the town into something more, to build it into a real community.  
  
He _could_ kid himself and say it was for the good of the group.  
  
But the fact of the matter was, it was to please his lover.  
  
He may have been selfish for thinking that way, but there you had it.  
  
He was only human after all.  
  
Daryl blew against Rick’s exposed cock, delighted when his lover shivered above him.  “Tease!” Rick said playfully.  
  
He closed his eyes before he engulfed Rick’s member whole, spurned on further when Rick arched his back and moaned.  Daryl slowly slid his mouth down and over before bringing it even more slowly back up, lapping at the head lazily.  
  
Daryl used some of Rick’s precum to moisten his finger, which he inserted in Rick’s entrance, pushing all the way to his knuckle before coming back out and inserting another finger.  He had a steady rhythm going in and out while he continued to suck on Rick’s cock.  
  
“Nnngh,” Rick groaned as he continued to wriggle on the bed.  
  
Daryl popped his head back up and pulled out his fingers, grinning at Rick.  “That ain’t a word,” he quietly laughed as he traveled up Rick’s body, licking and sucking along the treasure trail and up and over his abdomen, while running his hands all over, grabbing wherever he could.  He stopped at one nipple to bathe it liberally with his tongue.  “Fuck, Rick,” Daryl moaned wantonly as he begged, “I wanna fuck you.  Let me fuck you.”  
  
“You have to ask?!” Rick chuckled as he closed his eyes in pure bliss.  
  
Daryl pulled out his own cock and prepared it with some of Rick’s own release before he plunged inside of his lover, Rick arching off the bed yet again.  “Oh God!”  
  
As he pistoned in and out of Rick wildly, _frantically_ , Daryl held him down by his shoulders, as the other man continued to writhe on the bed below him.  Both men were connected so deeply, so intimately, so _passionately_ , there was no way anyone could tell where one man started and the other ended.  
  
He wanted to climb inside Rick, wanted to hold on and own that place inside him, the place where only _he_ and he alone would ever be allowed to touch.  
  
Daryl could tell by the rapturous look on Rick’s face the man was caught between utter ecstasy and delirium, because it was all too much, yet Daryl couldn’t stop, the sweat dripping down from his forehead clouding his sight, his frantic state clouding his mind.  
  
And Rick was there right along with him.  
  
“Let it go baby,” Daryl whimpered, caught up in his own primal state, yet so very aware of the state of his lover.  
  
And let it go Rick did.  
  
He came so violently, so quickly, shuddering his climax as he cried out, his inarticulate grunts like music to Daryl’s own ears, as he too came, pulled fiercely as he was into Rick’s orbit of euphoria.  
  
Daryl collapsed on top of his sated lover.  
  
“I can’t pull out just yet,” Daryl gasped as he lay on top of Rick, completely spent.  “I mean, I really can’t.  Think I’m stuck,” he chuckled drunkenly as he tried to come down off his high.  
  
Rick, also gasping for breath, scoffed, “Did you call me _baby_?”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said, laying his forehead against Rick’s, “Guess Merle rubs off on me sometimes.”  
  
“Must be in the DNA,” Rick grinned as he kissed the tip of Daryl’s nose.  
  
“Let’s jus’ hope that’s all that we share,” Daryl huffed.  
  
“Aw, Merle’s alright,” Rick said, as they continued to caress each other with their lips and noses.  
  
“Be careful of him,” Daryl sighed, stopping to become serious.  “He’s good now, but he might…I dunno.  He might be okay, just don’t...trust him _too_ much.”  
  
He knew Merle was hiding something lately.  
  
He could tell.  
  
Daryl didn’t think it had to do with drugs or anything like that, but _something_ was going on.  
  
He knew what Merle looked like when he became secretive.  
  
Just then static came through on the walkie-talkie on top of their bedside table.  
  
“Rick?” came Morgan’s voice.  
  
Rick reached over and spoke into the radio, grinning at Daryl as he did so.  
  
Either Morgan had the _best_ timing in the world or the _worst._  
  
“Your timing’s impeccable, Morgan,” Rick said into the radio.  
  
 _Well of course he was thinking the same thing as you._  
  
It was scary sometimes.  
  
Yet strangely reassuring.  
  
“Okay,” Morgan sighed into the device.  “Before, during or after?  God, don’t let it be during.”  
  
“After,” Rick grinned as his chest shook lightly from laughing.  
  
“I don’t wanna know anymore,” Morgan said.  “We got visitors.”  
  
“Visitors?” Rick repeated as he shot up off the bed, Daryl doing so as well, thankful he had pulled out while they had been lying together.  
  
“Four people.  Three men, one woman.  I…don’t know,” Morgan hesitated.  “They don’t _look_ hostile.  Actually,” he sighed as he failed to complete his thought.  
  
“We’ll be right there,” Rick said as he turned off the radio.  
  
“Whaddya think?” Daryl asked, having already started to get dressed.  
  
“I don’t know,” Rick shrugged.  “Morgan is an intuitive man, but…”  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl said as he nodded, watching as Rick fastened his gun belt over his jeans.  
  
 _You would think someone putting on a gun belt wouldn’t be as sexy as it was, yet there it is._  
  
Daryl whined quietly to himself as he turned away.  
  
 _For fucksake!  You just had sex with the man._  
  
 _Fucked his brains out and everything._  
  
Shrugging it off, they both ran out of the house and onto Daryl’s bike, making their way to the gate, which Carol already had opened for them, obviously having been warned by Morgan as well.  
  
She nodded at both men as they made their way out of the gate and into the main part of town, Merle already standing in front of the newcomers, his rifle aimed at them, Morgan still tucked away up in the steeple, a rifle pointed to the new group as well.  
  
The tall skinny one, an attractive male, if you were into that particular type, stopped to look at Rick and Daryl as they disembarked from the bike.  
  
He was obviously the leader.  
  
And as Daryl knew instinctively this man to be their leader, the man in turn knew who was _their_ leader as he focused in on Rick.  
  
At least he _hoped_ he was focusing in on Rick because he knew he was their ‘sort of’ leader (none of them having ever voted on it but thinking it all the same) and not because of other reasons.  
  
 _Getting a little possessive there now, aren’t you?_  
  
“Hey…um…hi,” the man said as he continued to hold his hands in the air, Daryl noticing the other members of their group doing the same as he trained his crossbow on the group.  
  
There was a pretty girl with long, dark hair, a young man with what Daryl could only describe as a stupid look on his face and another man with a baseball cap atop his head, chewing his gum fervently.  
  
“What’s your business here?” Rick called out to the tall, thin man.  
  
“We’re…we’re just on a supply run.  We saw the town.  Thought there might be some… _look_ ,” the man said as he put his hands out in a calming gesture, “we didn’t know anybody was here.  We’ll turn around and leave.  We just hope, _maybe_ …you can help us.”  
  
Rick sighed before gesturing to Merle to put down his rifle and to Daryl to lower his crossbow.  
  
“Where’s your group?” Rick asked.  
  
“We’re down quite a ways.  We’ve come kinda far,” the man sighed as he lowered his hands, his group doing the same as he gestured to them.  “How about if we start over?  Hi,” he said animatedly as he waved, then putting his hand on his upper chest.  “I’m Gareth.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh! 
> 
> As always, I love, love, love, love feedback. 
> 
> Yes, that would be love to the fourth power. ;P
> 
> Now that summer is winding down (and that's a little sad), I actually have some more free time.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is ridiculously late. Sorry but you know, summer happened. You take advantage of it up here in the great Pac NW. The kids are now back in school, the restaurant has slowed down a little so now I'm back on a regular schedule, so except for a few curriculum nights and a state fair, my days are back to almost winter-like. Writing every day with a posting after 4 or 5 days. I haven't been on a regular schedule since late winter so there you go.
> 
> ALSO, I FORGOT!!! I HAVE A NEW TUMBLER THINGIE. YOU CAN FIND ME AT [dementedqueen.tumblr.com](http://dementedqueen.tumblr.com).

  
  
  
Rick’s POV  
  
  
  
“It’s been some coupla days, huh?” Rick said softly as he soothed his fingers over Daryl’s arm and down along his bare hip bone.  
  
He watched as a grinning Daryl brought his hand up to Rick’s hair line.  “Got that right.”  
  
Rick looked over at the ‘fire’ in the fireplace they were both camped in front of in the living room.  
  
As they both lay naked on a thick, plush faux fur rug, the soft, silky feeling comforting on their bare skin, Rick recalled meeting the new group of people only yesterday morning.  
  
  
_“Hi, I’m Gareth!”_  
  
_Rick stared back at the young man who had just introduced himself.  “Rick.  Rick Grimes,” he said as he extended his hand._  
  
Please don’t be creepy.  Please don’t be creepy.  
  
_“The gentleman with the stupid look on his face over there is my brother Alex,” Gareth said as he pointed to the one man who Rick himself had thought the very same thing of only moments before._  
  
_“Hey!” Alex pouted.  “Not cool dude.  Hi!” he said with a friendly wave._  
  
_“That’s Theresa,” Gareth said as he pointed to a rather attractive girl in her early twenties, the aforementioned girl waving back as she was introduced.  “And that’s Martin,” he finished off as he pointed to the young man in a baseball cap, who nodded back in greeting._  
  
_If Rick were to guess, he would have said they were all in their mid-twenties._  
  
_At least, Rick could tell that much._  
  
_He shifted when he felt Daryl’s presence next to him._  
  
_Or behind him._  
  
_He could never tell since the man was always so close to him in circumspect situations._  
  
_Which this one seemed to be._  
  
_“This is Daryl,” Rick said as he pointed to his lover, “and his brother, Merle,” he said as he pointed to Merle, who came and stood right next to Rick, both men still holding onto their weapons of choice, ready at any given moment for whatever might go down._  
  
_“Great!  Now we got all the pleasantries outta the way,” Merle groused.  “Who’re you assholes?  An’ don’t give me your names again neither.”_  
  
_“Look,” Gareth sighed.  “There’s a huge group of us…”_  
  
_“You got people hiding somewhere here boy?” Merle growled as he brought his rifle up again, pointing it directly at Gareth, Rick instinctively going toward his gun as well but not pulling it out, while Daryl brought up his crossbow._  
  
_At least he knew Morgan still had his rifle set on them up in the church tower._  
  
_“No, no,” Gareth said quickly.  “My group…_ our _group…is a long, long way from here.  We have a lot of people back there and we’re just looking for supplies.  We don’t wanna stay…”_  
  
_“Damn straight you ain’t gonna stay,” Daryl growled._  
  
_Rick had expected something like that out of Merle, but was a bit taken aback by his lover’s tone._  
  
_“Sorry,” Rick said as he put his hand tenderly on Daryl’s hand to calm him, while addressing Gareth._  
  
_If what Gareth was saying was true, it seemed like the rather amiable enough group were just really only gathering supplies and_ not _looking to take the place over while establishing themselves there after killing their small group._  
  
I hope.  
  
_“Maybe a few weeks ago, I woulda given you some of our supplies, but our group seems to keep growin,’” Rick said.  “We’ve been gathering stuff from the town…”_  
  
_“I can see that,” Gareth said quickly, as his group moved closer to their leader to offer support._  
  
_Rick’s group came closer in as well._  
  
_Thankfully, Morgan was still in the church tower._  
  
_“Maybe we can trade,” Gareth shrugged.  “We don’t want much.”_  
  
_“Sound’s fair,” Merle nodded as he leered at Theresa.  “You give us the woman and…”_  
  
_“What the fuck!?” Gareth yelled over Theresa’s and Alex’s raised voices, Rick and Daryl joining in just as loudly._  
  
_“Merle!  Shut the fuck up!” Daryl hissed._  
  
_“He didn’t mean that,” Rick said quickly while Dale rushed in to abate the situation._  
  
_“Don’t listen to him,” Dale scoffed, as he waved Merle away.  “None of us do.”_  
  
_“As I was saying,” Gareth said as he cleared his throat, giving Merle a sideways glance._  
  
_“I don’t think he was joking,” Glenn whispered to Bob in the background, Carol shushing the two men._  
  
_Trying to get them back on track, Rick nodded at Gareth.  “So a trade, huh?  But we got all the weapons we need.  We got everything…”_  
  
_Gareth looked around before zeroing in once again on Rick.  “How are you set for power?”_  
  
_“We got generators,” Rick shrugged._  
  
_“I mean,” Gareth sighed, “I noticed the hydro electric plant on the way into town.  It’s operated by the river that runs along Cynthiana in the woods.”_  
  
_“Um…yeah.  The hydro electric plant,” Rick winced.  “We’re…none of us know how to man that exactly and…but, we got_ lots _of generators.”_  
  
_Rick recalled his recent lamenting to Daryl about how great it would be if a civil engineer were to make it to their town._  
  
_And then the lightbulb went off in his head._  
  
_“Wait,” Rick said quickly, “do_ you _know how to get that plant running?!”_  
  
_“Louie,” Gareth smiled widely, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”_  
  
_Rick smiled back at Gareth (and he was pretty sure he heard a growl coming from Daryl) when he realized the man represented Christmas and his birthday all rolled into one package._  
  
_They got their civil engineer._  
  
_Or something akin to it anyway._  
  
_Well, he_ hoped _it was at least something akin to it._  
  
_“You can turn the power back on?” Daryl asked skeptically, Dale and Bob gathering around as well._  
  
_“Oh yeah,” Gareth said.  “I did back at_ our _camp.”_  
  
_“Wait,” Merle muttered.  “How’s this dumb ass gonna turn the power back on when he can’t even ‘member Rick’s name.”  He looked directly at Gareth.  “It ain’t Louie.  ’S_ Rick _.”_  
  
_“I know it’s Rick,” Gareth stuttered.  “It was…you know…Bogart, Humphrey Bogart?”_  
  
_“He was quoting Casablanca,” Andrea said as she hit Merle in the arm._  
  
_“You all look hungry,” Carol said quickly as she stepped into the group huddled around Gareth and Rick.  “We were about to get breakfast going.  You can join us.”_  
  
_“Dude!  Food!” Alex moaned.  “You are totally_ awesome _!”_  
  
_And with that, everyone nodded in agreement and made their way back to Carol and Morgan’s shared home._  
  
  
“You don’t like Gareth much, do you?” Rick asked as he ran his hand over and around Daryl’s collarbone.  
  
“Like him alright, I guess,” Daryl shrugged as he kissed the top of Rick’s knuckles as they passed over him.  “I mean…he did okay by us… _I guess_.”  
  
“ _But_ ,” Rick smiled as he pressed further, sweeping his hand back along Daryl’s arm once again, ever so slowly.  
  
“Fucker always looks so smug,” Daryl growled.  “And God!  That first breakfast we all shared!”  
  
  
  
_“So, you know how to get the power back on?” Rick asked yet again as they all sat down at the table._  
  
_“Sort of.  I mean, I did back at Terminus,” Gareth said as he helped himself to the three-egg omelet.  “God, I missed eggs so much!” he said as he took another large bite, moaning around the mouthful._  
  
_Rick looked over at Carol and Andrea when he heard them whispering to each other._  
  
_“You work for the power company?” Glenn asked._  
  
_“No, but I majored in Computer Science and Mechanical Engineering.  I was_ this _close to graduating,” Gareth said with a frown as he pinched his thumb and index finger together.  “Top of my class too.”_  
  
_“Aw this_ ass _don’t know shit!” Daryl griped._  
  
_“Now wait,” Alex said as he swallowed a bite of his omelet.  “Seriously, dude, this is like the best omelet I’ve ever eaten, like in,_ forever _.  Don’t tell mom,” he said as he looked at Gareth intently.  “He had one of those…um…internships…at Orange County Power!”_  
  
_“Yeah, I mean all power plants are sort of set up the same,” Gareth said.  “It’s just basic engineering.  And they always have an instruction manual in the control room.”_  
  
_“An instruction manual you say?” Merle said looking completely befuddled.  “Really?”_  
  
_“Hey don’t laugh!  All the space shuttles have instruction manuals too dudes!” Alex said eagerly._  
  
_“Now why in the fuckin’ hell would someone need a manual on the damn Space Shuttle?!” Merle grumbled.  “They hiring people out of McDonald’s or some shit?”_  
  
_“Dude,” Alex said.  “It’s if you get stuck up there and you’re not, you know, like an astronaut.”_  
  
_“How the hell you gonna end up on the Space Shuttle by_ accident _?!” Merle growled.  “’S not like you can take the wrong bus or something.”_  
  
_“Um, can we focus on things that are_ actually _going to happen here?” Andrea said sarcastically._  
  
_“No, I’m with Merle on this one,” Glenn said.  “How_ do _you end up on the Space Shuttle accidentally?”_  
  
_“Or for the love of…!” Bob exclaimed._  
  
_“Thank you Bob, for trying to get back on the issue at hand,” Dale said._  
  
_“What if you’re a school teacher they decided to send up there,” Bob continued while Dale threw him a dirty look.  “You weren’t trained to land the damn thing.  Of course they would have a manual.”_  
  
_“Am I the only one here who wants to find out how the power is gonna come back on!?” Andrea yelled._  
  
_“As I was saying,” Gareth said as he cleared his throat. “I may never have seen a turbine like the one we’ve got back at Terminus, but I got_ that _one going.”_  
  
_“You keep saying Terminus,” Dale jumped in.  “What is that?”_  
  
_“It’s this abandoned railroad yard termination complex,” Gareth said, looking at all the blank faces around him.  “You know, it’s where they maintain the trains,” he said before sighing.  “It’s a big facility with a huge yard and a fence surrounding it.”_  
  
_“It’s called Terminus but we call it sanctuary,” Theresa said._  
  
_“We let everyone in so needless to say, we’ve been growing at an alarming rate,” Gareth said._  
  
_“Wait,” Rick said.  “You let_ everyone _in?”_  
  
_“Well, yeah,” Gareth said.  “It’s_ sanctuary _.  I mean, we’re all we’ve got left now, right?  The ‘us and them’ dynamic has changed._ Us _, as in humanity, and_ them _, as in the walking dead.”_  
  
_“But,” Rick said, “you know tha’s dangerous.  It don’t matter if everyone’s in the same boat now.  They’re still people who wanna take your stuff.  Who wanna take what you have,” Rick said sadly as he looked over at Sophia, remembering what that fucker had planned to do with the little girl in the tent._  
  
_“Yeah I know, and that’s what some of the others keep saying,” Gareth said.  “But we have to start somewhere.  It’s the right thing to do.  The_ human _thing to do.  We have to still keep our humanity.  Without it, we’re no better than the walkers…or the people you say we should keep out.  Look, Nietzsche once said, ‘whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process,_ he _does not become a monster…”_  
  
_“…And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you,” Dale finished as he nodded his head.  “He’s right.”_  
  
_“Yeah,” Rick said hesitantly, “but you have to be smarter ‘bout it.  One day you might let someone in who doesn’t feel the same way.  Who just wants to take advantage.”_  
  
_“I hear you Rick,” Gareth said as he put his hand on his arm._  
  
_This time, he_ distinctly _heard a growl emanating from Daryl._  
  
_“But I can’t see it any other way.  Do you know how to tell a good person from a bad?” Gareth asked intently.  “It’s not so easy.  I have to go with my gut instinct on this one.”_  
  
_Rick thought that was rather ironic when it had been that gut instinct in_ him _that had told him to shoot Dave first back in the cafe those precious few weeks ago._  
  
_And he had been correct in his assumption._  
  
_“Well, how is it you all came together?” Gareth asked slyly.  “Did you all start out together?”_  
  
_“Actually,” Rick chuckled as he looked at his group behind him.  “I sorta woke up and then these guys were there,” he said as he pointed to Daryl and Merle._  
  
_“Woke up?” Theresa asked in confusion._  
  
_“I’d been in a coma for well…I’m not exactly sure,” Rick grimaced._  
  
_He was so tired of relating his story that Rick wished at this point he could just wear a t-shirt that said I WOKE UP FROM A COMA IN THE APOCALYPSE AND ALL I GOT WAS AMNESIA AND THIS STUPID T-SHIRT._  
  
_“Why were you in a coma?” Martin asked hesitantly._  
  
_“Reasons.  I was so confused,” Rick continued, not wanting to talk about the huge gunshot wound.  “If it weren’t for Daryl here,” he said as he smiled at his lover, Daryl smiling back before Rick caught Daryl smiling smugly back at Gareth, “…and Merle…I woulda been dead.”_  
  
_“So you trusted these two here,” Gareth said, as if he was trying to get at some point._  
  
_“Yeah, yeah, I did,” Rick said as he nodded.  “Not like I had much choice though.”_  
  
_“So it wasn’t even an instinctive thing.  A gut instinct,” Gareth said, as if he were on the debate team of whatever prep school he had no doubt graduated from at the age of eighteen.  “You just did.  You just_ decided _to trust them.”_  
  
_“Yes.  Okay, yes,” Rick said.  “But I can honestly say that once I had gotten to know them, I knew I would be alright with him.”_  
  
_“You mean_ them _,” Gareth said as he smiled suggestively.  “But see?  You have to take that first step and believe it’ll all be okay.  Once again, I have to refer back to Nietzsche who rejected the idea of good and evil, that every man was his own compass. That left to his will, he’ll do the right thing.  He took it all past the idea of survival.”_  
  
Oh God the man wouldn’t shut up.  
  
_Rick was pretty sure that Gareth had no doubt minored in Philosophy right along with that major in Computer Science and Mechanical Engineering._  
  
_Rick also solidly believed Gareth was the type of individual who could talk their way into and justify almost_ anything _._  
  
_Possibly_ everything _._  
  
_“Ah!” Dale spoke up.  “‘We love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to_ loving _.’”_  
  
_“Exactly!” Gareth beamed at Dale.  “I see another Nietzsche devotee.”_  
  
_“I studied,” Dale shrugged as Andrea slapped him on the upper arm and smiled at him._  
  
_“You too Dale?” Glenn groused._  
  
_“Welcome to my world,” Martin scoffed._  
  
_“Yeah well, ‘that which does not kill us makes us stronger,’” Daryl huffed._  
  
_“Daryl!  You studied the works of Nietzsche as well?” Gareth asked, surprise evident in his posture and on his arrogant face._  
  
_“No, just remember it from the beginning of that Conan the Barbarian movie,” Daryl droned._  
  
_The air, thick with tension and male posturing, had been lifted and everyone laughed._  
  
_“Boy that Neechee said a lot of shit!” Merle said incredulously.  “Surprised people took her seriously what with that pink hair and that weird music she’s always singing and them weird outfits of hers…”_  
  
_“Aw hell Merle!  You_ ass _!” Daryl grumbled.  “They’re talking ‘bout the philosopher, Nietzsche.  You’re thinking of Nicki Minaj…dumbass.”_  
  
_Once again, everyone laughed before Martin spoke up.  “Iffen we wanna get back sometime in the next few days, we should get started on that power plant and collecting supplies.”_  
  
_“Yeah,” Gareth said.  “Maybe some of your group could let my group know what they can take or maybe even expedite things by helping them.  In the mean time, me and Martin could use some of you guys to help us enter the power plant, as back up.”_  
  
_“Is it crawling with walkers?” Bob asked, wincing._  
  
_“Like I said, we saw it on the way here.  It wasn’t_ then _,” Gareth said, “but you know, some of the past employees of the plant might still be there, if you know what I mean.”_  
  
_“No, we hear you,” Rick said.  “We always use a large group to clear any building.  Me, Daryl, Glenn and Morgan can be your back up.  Merle, Bob, Andrea, Carol and Dale’ll stay here and help you guys gather supplies.”_  
  
_“I’ll take Martin with me,” Gareth said.  “Alex and Theresa can deal with the supplies.”_  
  
_“So you mean some of them are gonna go with you guys when you go to the plant to turn the power back on,” Alex said excitedly.  “Sweet!”_  
  
_“Why wouldn’t we?” Glenn asked._  
  
_“No I mean,” Alex started before shaking his head.  “It’s just like that scene from Jurassic Park, when Samuel Jackson had to go into the bunkhouse to turn on the auxiliary power to reboot the computers so he took that hunter guy.”_  
  
_“No, he didn’t,” Glenn said.  “It was Laura Dern’s character that took the hunter guy.”_  
  
_“Oh yeah,” Alex said.  “Dude!  But it’s still kinda like that.”_  
  
_“Yeah, it is,” Glenn smiled.  “Only they were dealing with carnivorous dinosaurs that could rip a human apart…sorta like we’re dealing with carnivorous humans that could…yeah, it’s exactly like that scene.”_  
  
_“Yeah, but them velociraptors are like, way smarter than a bunch of walkers,” Martin chimed in._  
  
_Rick smiled as he watched the scene before him, before turning to Daryl, who had been watching Rick as well, a smile on his face too._  
  
_At that point everyone finished off their breakfasts while the conversation turned into a debate about what was Samuel Jackson’s real break out movie, which evolved into a discussion about the movie Pulp Fiction, which morphed into theories about what was really in the suitcase of the aforementioned movie and why it glowed so brightly._  
  
_It would be another hour before they all made their way to the power plant._  
  
  
  
“You know, lookin’ back,” Daryl said as ran his finger along Rick’s cheek, “‘m glad them college boys came to town.”  
  
“College _boy_ ,” Rick stated.  “Only Gareth went to college.  Alex dropped out.”  
  
“Mean, ’s great we got the power back and all,” Daryl said as he looked at the ‘fire’ in the grate.  It wasn’t a real fire, but an electric one, which was good since smoke drew the walkers’ attention and it did look very real.  
  
Rick had to agree, it was _indeed_ a relief to have the power back on.  
  
They had made it to the hydro electric plant.  Before Gareth even started the turbines going again, he had instructed the men to turn off all the grids and then turn on only the ones they had needed.  
  
He had left explicit instructions on how to turn on additional grids when they were needed.  
  
Gareth had also left detailed instructions as to what they had to do to maintain the power plant running.  
  
Instructions on how to maintain the safeties on the various turbines, to troubleshoot and other things that Rick had never even thought about.  
  
Then again, he hadn’t majored in Computer Science and Mechanical Engineering in college.  
  
At least, he didn’t _think_ he had.  
  
Gareth had told them that if the town didn’t expand too much, that they could have uninterrupted power for quite some time being that the turbines were being fed by the local river.  
  
“Just wish Gareth hadn’t been such a know it all prick,” Daryl grumbled.  
  
“Daryl!  Are you jealous?!” Rick exclaimed, looking far too amused with the whole situation.  
  
“What? No!” Daryl huffed.  “Why would I be jealous?”  
  
“You are!” Rick smirked.  
  
“Maybe a little,” Daryl pouted.  
  
“Seriously Daryl?  You’re like…perfect at everything!” Rick said.  “At least now I know you’re just like the rest of us, flawed in some way,” he grinned.  
  
“Great,” Daryl muttered before breaking into a small grin.  “Now you know what my kryptonite is.”  
  
“I solemnly swear to never use it for the purposes of evil,” Rick said as he raised his hand in the air in imitation of an oath before cracking another smile.  
  
“You _ass_ ,” Daryl smiled before kissing Rick fully on the mouth.  
  
Rick hadn’t said it out loud, but he had thought Gareth had been a bit of a pompous jerk as well.  
  
But the man _had_ gotten the power back on.  
  
He thought back to their first dinner, all of them together, in the cafe, with the lights on, without the use of personal, noisy generators or candles or camp lanterns.  
  
  
  
_They had decided to have a celebratory dinner before having to send off the Termites, a name they had affectionately come up with for their new found friends, both to thank them for restoring the power and to make sure they were well fed for their journey back home._  
  
_Carol, Andrea and Dale had helped Alex and Theresa load their van up with enough supplies that would last them for at least two months, Gareth having confirmed it, being that he seemed to like keeping inventory and knowing how many people they needed supplies for, as well as adjusting for the rate of new people arriving every week._  
  
_They had feasted on venison, caught by Merle and Bob earlier in the day, and various side dishes prepared with the ingredients from various dry goods._  
  
_They had even opened a few bottles of red and white wines._

 _They probably should have started with the food part of the feast before imbibing on the spirits though._  
  
_Rick watched as Dale took a large sip of Zifandel, then stood up.  He was no doubt about to make a toast._  
  
_Dale held his cup up high.  “I’d like to make a toast.”_  
  
And Gareth said you didn’t know how to read people.  
  
_“To our new friends,” Dale said as he held his glass up to Gareth and his group, “who helped get this town_ switched on _,” he said lewdly as he made a suggestive gesture, “and reminded this old man that humanity_ does _still exist out there.”_  
  
_“Why?” Merle asked as he took a shot of whiskey.  “Cuz he was quotin’ that Cheezy Wiz guy?”_  
  
_Despite Dale’s euphoric glow from the wine, he still sighed loudly before sitting down._  
  
_Rick was about to stand up and give a toast but Gareth managed to beat him to it.  “And I would like to make a toast…”_  
  
_“Dudes,” Alex said sadly as he shook his head.  “When he gets started monologuing, there’s no end in sight.”_  
  
_Ignoring his brother, Gareth continued, “I just wanted to thank Rick and his group,” he said as she stared directly at Rick, “for deciding to give us a chance and to hear us out so that we could be here now.  It confirms that there are still good people out there and that I was right.  And I’m very thankful to have that fucking_ huge _haul we got out out there,” Gareth laughed, Rick realizing as he surveyed all the empty bottles, that they were all a little buzzed by this point, “and that we could mutually benefit each other.  And Dale, you are welcome_ anytime _at Terminus, if you wanted to talk Philosophy and Nihilism and Existentialism and Acosmism and…”_  
  
_“That’s a whole lot of isms,” Merle said before he belched._  
  
_“As are any of you, welcome that is, at Terminus, the building with the fence, the place where the choo-choos used to go,” Gareth said as he started to sway.  “There’s a place at Terminus for all of you.  Maybe you’ll visit sometime too,” Gareth said as he threw a mischievous smile and a wink at Rick before sitting down heavily on his chair.  “I love you guys.”_  
  
_Everyone clapped as Gareth sat down, Rick looking over at his lover who seemed to be the only one rolling his eyes.  “I’d like to talk my fist in his mouthism right now,” Daryl grumbled._  
  
_“Man, the shit is getting so thick ‘round here ‘m gonna need them hip waders we saw in the hardware store pretty soon,” Morgan said, looking at his empty bottle._  
  
_“Daddy!” Duane exclaimed._  
  
_“_ Holy fuck _!  I forgot the kids were here!” Morgan said._  
  
_“Rick!  You need to say something!” Glenn called out.  “Speech!” he called out, everyone following suit._  
  
_“Guess I better say somethin’ before ya’ll wake the dead…literally,” Rick snickered, the affects of all the wine starting to go to his head.  “I jus’ wanted to say, when I first woke up, I thought I was in hell.  And now as I look at all of you,” he paused thoughtfully, “I realize_ I am _,” Rick sputtered before breaking down into laughter, everyone else cackling in glee._  
  
_“I think we better eat something now,” Andrea said, tipping over slightly._  
  
_They all sat at the long table that had been made from various smaller round tables and adorned with several tablecloths. Carol had arranged some of the local foliage, with its Autumn hues, on the table as well.  It was truly festive._  
  
_Food was being passed around and the wine was still free flowing while the conversation continued._  
  
_It had turned to the topic of how civilization would be established again.  Dale and Gareth were about to expound on their theories before Alex had said they needed to get a postal system in place again, like from the movie The Postman._  
  
_That of course, had led to a discussion about Kevin Costner which led to a conversation about his role as Robin Hood which led to a bitching session about American actors who try to imitate British accents and fail horribly yet British actors as a whole, Morgan and Rick being quick to point out, could always manage to do a perfect American accent._  
  
_They had talked long into the night, until they realized how late it was getting and that the Termites needed to get an early start in the morning._  
  
  
  
Rick was laying on his belly as Daryl kneeled behind him, giving him a wonderfully, thorough massage.  
  
“You still thinking ‘bout them?” Daryl asked as he ran his hand firmly down Rick’s spine, ‘bout them letting jus’ anyone in?”  
  
“I’m a bit worried ‘bout them,” Rick said.  “They’re gonna get hurt.  It don’t look like his mother’s being the voice of reason neither.”  
  
“Yeah I was thinkin' the same thing,” Daryl said.  “It ain’t gonna end well.”  
  
“Guess we gotta hope for the best,” Rick sighed as Daryl continued to rub him down.   
  
“Still glad he’s gone though,” Daryl said.  “Bag full of hot air.  I can deal with Dale.  But Dale _and_ him?!”  
  
Rick thought back to earlier that morning, when the Termites made ready to leave.  
  
  
  
_“You sure we can’t talk you guys into staying here.  Instead?” Rick pleaded one more time.  “I know you got your settlement an’ all, but…”_  
  
_“Sorry Rick,” Gareth said sadly, “If it was just me, but it’s not.  It’s all my people and...my mother,” he finished with a frown._  
  
_“Just, be careful,” Rick said one more time._  
  
_“Okay,” Gareth said as he nodded his head.  “Look Rick.  About your situation.”_  
  
_Rick winced when he thought about his situation._  
  
_He had drunkenly told Gareth late last night about his whole amnesia and not knowing who he was and meeting Daryl and getting into a relationship with Daryl and falling for the man._  
  
_“You know, I know you think everything that’s happened to you is well,_ weird _and you know, it’s driving you crazy.  But man,” Gareth said as he put his hand on Rick’s shoulder.  “It’s actually the_ best _thing that could have happened to you.  I’ll be blunt here.  If you did have loved ones, you now have the luxury of not remembering them.  You didn’t lose anything because you can’t_ remember _it.  This is like the reset button on your life.  You’ve got a good thing here now, with Daryl,” Gareth shrugged.  “I mean, he’s_ alright _.”_  
  
_Gareth too?_

 _Maybe Daryl's jealousy was justified when it came to the young man._  
  
_Rick wondered if he had ever been this popular with people_ before _the coma._  
  
_“Anyway, if everything goes bad here, just head straight for Terminus, okay?” Gareth said.  “No questions, just head straight for us.  Follow the train tracks to the end.”_  
  
_“To the big building with the fence around it,” Rick smirked.  “Got it.  Same applies for you too.”_  
  
_“We’re more secure where we are,” Gareth said knowingly.  “But okay.”_  
  
_Rick held out his hand to shake, before Gareth grabbed hold of Rick and hugged him tightly.  “Take care of yourself.”_  
  
_“You too,” Rick said as he patted the younger man on the back._  
  
_Rick watched as the Termites got ready to get into the van, all hugging and well wishing and back slapping with Rick’s group._  
  
_Theresa had even bestowed a kiss on Merle’s cheek, the older Dixon looking everywhere but at the rest of the group._  
  
_Daryl came up beside Rick as he watched them board the van and drive away, Merle opening the gate for them as they did so.  “’S their choice.  They’re gonna do what they’re gonna do,” Daryl sighed as he put his arm around Rick._  
  
_“I know, I just gotta bad feeling,” Rick said anxiously as the van slowly drove out of sight._  
  
  
  
“Still got them bad feelings?” Daryl asked as he lay flush against Rick on the thick rug in front of the fire.  
  
The sudden warmth was nice, reminding Rick that the nights were getting colder.  
  
“Yeah,” Rick said, “but in the words of…”  
  
“Iffen you say Nietzsche, ‘m gonna tickle you ’til you can’t breathe no more,” Daryl warned.  
  
“I was gonna _say_ ,” Rick chuckled, “in the words of Merle, ‘whatcha gonna do?’”  
  
Daryl snickered along with Rick before he twisted himself around and lay on his back, facing Daryl, who happened to be hovering over his head.  “You got me now,” Rick smiled, “Whatch _you_ gonna do?”  
  
“Well,” Daryl smiled suggestively.  
  
And just like that, the static from the walkie-talkie came on again.  
  
“Oh for the love of God!” Daryl muttered.  “What now?”  
  
“Guys, you there?” Bob’s voice could be heard over the static.  
  
“Yeah, we’re here,” Rick grumbled as he picked up the radio.  
  
“Seriously, you were doing it _again_?” Bob asked incredulously.  “Didn’t you guys do it like, yesterday?”  
  
“And your point?” Daryl replied angrily.  
  
“Well we hadn’t _yet_ ,” Rick groused.  
  
“Say no more,” Bob said matter-of-factly.  “Really, say no more.  We got visitors at the gate.”  
  
“Jesus!  ’S like Woodstock!” Daryl exclaimed.   
  
“Yeah well, guys…it’s Maggie,” Bob said somberly.  “And I’ve never met her family, but she’s got people with her and they look all fucked up.”  
  
“Oh fuck,” Rick said as he looked back at Daryl.  
  
Both men gathered themselves from the floor and rushed into their clothing to greet the Greene family.  
  
Or what was left of them.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Gareth is a philosophical hipster nihilist. And if we're looking at the correct time line here, this would be late season 2. :)
> 
> Sorry there was no sex here, but there are sexy times ahead.
> 
> Please leave a comment. It does help me to write more. 
> 
> Also, thank you for all the kudos. I love that! But hey, since you can only leave one kudos per story, a shout out would be nice.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think I would forget you and this?
> 
> Nope. I'm back baby! (on this too)
> 
> Now when you start this chapter (and remember, we last ended on Gareth's group's departure and a distressed Maggie), NO, I did not get hit in the head and get total amnesia and forget to post a chapter, and NO, you did not miss a chapter. Just read and all will be explained.
> 
> Trust me.
> 
> I came back after all. :)

 

  
Daryl’s POV

 

“That was why Jack died. It was _her_ fault,” Glenn lamented, sounding far too frustrated.

Daryl knew it could only be one thing.

“No, it _wasn’t_!” came Maggie’s equally frustrated and somewhat angry voice.

Glenn was arguing with Maggie again.

“Dale,” Glenn said as he stopped the older man who happened to be walking by pensively.

“Don’t involve me in this,” Dale pleaded.

“Jack could’ve survived, couldn’t he?” Glenn barked.

“Really, you know how I feel about this,” Dale said, once again his plea falling on deaf ears, caught between the squabble.

“Well I agree with Maggie,” Andrea cut in. “It wasn’t Rose’s fault.”

“Typical women,” Merle spat out. “Only wanna see the…”

“Not helping Merle,” Glenn interrupted.

“Look,” Dale reasoned. “Can we not have this discussion again?”

“If Rose had gone on the life boat like she was supposed to, like she actually _did_ , instead of going out and finding Jack, Jack would have made it off the Titanic and found his own piece of debris to float on,” Glenn said as he ticked every point he made off on his fingers.

“He wouldn’t have been so adamant about getting off the sinking ship if it weren’t for Rose!” Maggie stated, just as fervently. “He would’ve kept saving other people and he _still_ would have drowned!”

“Okay,” Dale sighed as he looked between the two of them. “You both make very valid points. Now the romantic in me likes to think he saved Rose and not think about the existential theories on why Rose left the life boat when she was clearly being saved just so she could be _saved_ by Jack in the end. But I have to say, as a firm believer in the works of Plato and his theory of self, he always maintained the kind of person we are depends on the kind of soul we have. I think Jack had the true soul of a guardian. So…”

“Great! You’re gonna side with Maggie,” Glenn said as he threw his hands up in the air before getting a confused look on his face. “I mean, that’s what you were getting at, right?”

“Ain’t that Plato the chick who was on _Different Strokes_?” Merle asked.

“How do you tie your shoes in the morning?” Andrea asked as she regarded Merle.

“Morgan! Morgan!” Maggie said, as she grabbed the passing man’s elbow, who had most assuredly been trying to make his way past them all without being seen. “Would Jack have survived had Rose not been there?”

Morgan looked amongst all the parties involved. “My wife, bless her soul, “ Morgan started, “always told me to keep my mouth shut on stuff like this, but I gotta side with the guys here. Jack would’ve survived had it not been for Rose.”

And with that, Daryl watched as the man made his quick getaway.

_Smart man._

_You should be going too if you don’t want to get caught as well._

“Coward!” Andrea yelled after the retreating man. “Typical men,” she said derisively as she threw a side glance at Merle.

“Don’t get your titties in a twist,” Merle said.

“You know, you would be a half decent man if you weren’t so damn lewd,” Andrea huffed.

“’S in my human nature,” Merle huffed, a slightly hurt look on his face.

His older brother never showed it much, but he did have feelings.

Merle suddenly straightened up. “Now, you know, Dale ain’t the only one who knows phila...phili...philosophy and shit.”

“I’m sure the only works you know of are the ones by Larry Flint and Hugh Hefner!” Andrea snarked back.

“No, now listen,” Merle said. “I heard one of them fables once. You ever hear the story of the beetle and the shark?”

_Oh please._

_No Merle._

“There’s a fable about a beetle and a shark?” Dale asked in disbelief.

“Well, lookie here. Just sit back and listen, maybe you’re gonna learn something old man,” Merle said smugly.

“Wait, this is about human nature, right?” Dale asked. “I think you mean the fable about the frog and the scorpion.”

“Now who here is telling the story?” Merle asked incredulously.

“Don’t even bother Dale. Oh, this is gonna be _good_ , ” Morgan said as he cut in, Daryl wondering when the man came back to join them.

It was as if the man had radar built into him and knew precisely when Merle was about to make a fool out of himself.

Of course, there was twenty-four hours in a day.  Chances were good at least one of those hours he would.

“Okay, so see, there’s this beetle, and he wants to get across this pond,” Merle starts. “But he don’t know how he’s gonna until he sees this shark…”

“In a pond?” Glenn asked disbelievingly. “A _shark_? Are you sure it’s not what Dale said…”

“Now I says again, who’s telling the damn story here?!” Merle reiterated.

“Please, go on, you’re doing _wonderfully_ ,” Dale smirked, standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So this beetle asks the shark if he’ll help him get ‘cross the pond, but the shark’s all worried about the beetle stinging him and hurting him,” Merle said, very much into the telling of the story.

"Do beetles sting?" Maggie asked.

“A beetle…is afraid of a shark,” Andrea snickered. “I can not _wait_ for the punchline of this story.”

_Me too._

_The idiot doesn't know where he's going._

_God doesn't know where he's going._

“So the shark is taking the beetle across the water and then the beetle _stings him_!” Merle said, saying the last part rather dramatically. “And the shark gets all pissy and eats the beetle and as the beetle’s dying he asks why," Merle said, a pout on his face, "and the shark says ‘it’s in my nature,’” he finished, a huge satisfied smile on his face.

“How can the beetle talk if it’s you know, being eaten?” Glenn frowned.

“So the shark eats the beetle…but,” Maggie said, “he ate the beetle because it stung him and the only one who loses in this is the beetle.  I don't think I'm getting this.”

“No they both did,” Merle said as he shook his head before stopping and contemplating. “Oh wait, I might’ve told it wrong. So there’s…”

His older brother needed to quit while he was ahead.

Not that he _was_ ahead to begin with.

“The story is of the _scorpion and the frog_ ,” Dale interjected. “A scorpion asks a frog to carry it across a river. The frog hesitates, of course, afraid of being stung, but the scorpion argues that if it did so, sting the frog that is, they would both drown. Taking into consideration what the scorpion said, the frog agrees, but midway across the river, the scorpion _does_ sting the frog, dooming the both of them to drowning. When the frog asks why, the scorpion replies that it was in its nature to do so thereby proving fundamentally, that someone’s vicious nature can’t really ever change.”

“See?” Merle exclaimed. “Just like I was saying, it was in its nature.”

“You didn’t say anything like Dale’s version!” Glenn said.

“So _what_?” Andrea said as she regarded Merle. “You’re saying you’re a sexist pig and its not your fault but that its in your nature. That at least maybe before I thought you could change and be a decent human being but now _what_? That you never will because you _can’t_?! Well, that doesn’t exactly help your case very much, now does it,” she snorted.

The idiot had a way of doing that.

“Yeah, well, you can’t turn a dick into a pussy but _fe_ males like you are always trying to do just that,” Merle barked back at Andrea.

“What?!  That makes absolutely no sense,” Andrea yelled back.

“’S coz you’re a damn woman. O’ course it don’t make any sense!” Merle charged back. “Bet Dale gotta fable for that too though. Make it simple for you to understand.”

“You’re on your own,” Dale said as he splayed his hands to the sides.

Dale and Andrea stood and watched as Merle walked away from the group in a huff, stopping and smiling smugly when he heard a “Oh! A dick into a pussy. I get it” from Glenn.

_The idiot thinks he won the argument._

_Maybe he did._

“Daryl!” Maggie shouted as everyone’s attention focused in on him.

_Great._

_You should’ve made your escape before._

Maybe his older brother wasn't an idiot.

After all, he had gotten himself out of the argument while Daryl was still stuck there.

He hated when they all argued about movie plots or whatnot.

The last time they had a debate about a movie was when they all discussed _Reservoir Dogs_ and whether or not the Harvey Keitel character was deserving of any kind of sympathy. That night Daryl had dreamed he was in a suit, holding a dying Rick, also in a suit, in his arms, bleeding out from a gunshot wound, while Merle stood in the background dancing to 'Stuck in the Middle with You.'

Now it was _Titanic_.

He would probably have a dream later that night of him and Rick at the bow of the doomed ship, Rick’s arms outstretched to the wind, Daryl holding him from behind while proclaiming himself king of the world.

“Daryl!” Maggie said in all seriousness, “would Jack have survived had Rose not gone looking for him?”

Daryl sighed before he took in the hopeful look on her face, while also regarding Glenn’s exasperated expression. “Jack would’ve survived if Rose had just kept her damn _ass_ planted in that _fucking_ lifeboat!” he managed to rush out before he fled the room amid shouts from Maggie and Andrea and a triumphant “Ha!” from Glenn.

The arguing continued as he reached the communal dining area, almost bumping into Carol, who was holding a large casserole dish.

“Smells good,” Daryl smiled as he inhaled the aroma of Carol’s cooking. “Lemme guess. Tuna casserole?”

_Wasn’t it always?_

There weren’t many choices when it came to canned meat.

“Smart ass. Go find Rick and tell him we’re about to eat,” Carol smiled.

Daryl smiled and started running in the direction of where he knew his lover would be.

Rick was on guard duty up in the church steeple.

Smirking, Daryl stole a glance at the aforementioned steeple in the distance.

Daryl always loved going up to relieve Rick of guard duty.

_And relieve yourself as well._

After their house, it was the quietest place, as well as safest, place where they could be alone together in the biblical sense.

Hopping on his bike, he made his way out of their safe area, the area surrounded by a wall made of shipping containers, to the other safe area where the church was located, an area surrounded by barbed wire fencing.

The group had made good use of all the materials they had on hand for making walls, fences and booby traps.

Parts of Cynthiana were a solid fortress.

Daryl marveled at how much work they had done in the past few months.

They had cleared the entire town of walkers, flushing them out wherever need be, corralling them at the hospital.

Their group had gotten pretty efficient at killing walkers, keeping in top form by training in the sheriff’s station.

Of course, herding the walkers into dump trucks and throwing them off the top of high ledges helped too.

And yet, Cynthiana was far too big for them to have declared all of it safe.

The most secure and well protected of the safe zones was where their houses were located, surrounded by the aforementioned shipping containers.

Unless the damn walkers learned how to drive a semi, nothing was breaking through _that._

The main thing was they could sleep safe at night.

Other parts of the town were surrounded by chain link fence that they had erected and attached barbed wire to at the top.

And food was not a problem. They had cleared every market, every house, every kitchen of all food stocks.

Carol and Maggie had control of the food stockpile and kept it safe and locked up in a secure storage facility.

Their chickens were laying eggs (Cinnamon still not cooperating but still loved by all) and Hershel had taken to teaching farming skills to Dale and the kids.

Life was good.

Well, as good as it could be in an undead apocalypse.

Arriving at the church, he parked his bike and went up the steps to the double doors.

Making his way up the staircase that would lead him to the steeple, he found Rick looking out over the wide expanse on the balcony, in the same direction his lover always managed to look when he was up there.

Daryl came up behind Rick and put his arms around the man, resting his chin on his lover’s shoulder.

“’S beautiful, ain’t it?” Rick asked as he continued to gaze straight ahead.

“Yeah it is,” Daryl smiled as he nuzzled Rick’s neck.

“You ain’t even looking at what I’m looking at,” Rick chuckled.

“‘M looking at you,” Daryl whispered affectionately as he nipped at Rick’s ear.

“Look at the trees,” Rick said as he indicated what he was looking at with his head, “the cherry blossoms. They’re in full bloom.”

Daryl looked out the expanse at the copse of trees that seemed to captivate his lover.

They _were_ beautiful.

Each and every one was in full bloom, an explosion of different shades of pink, from the darkest all the way down to the lightest, almost white flowers, all growing closely together. He had gone down there a few times when they were still buds. The trees provided a natural canopy of shade.

Spring wasn’t just coming anymore.

It was _here_.

It was a welcome thing after the winter they had gone through.

Daryl remembered the night right before winter had been something only on the close horizon, when a frantic Maggie had come to the front gates, babbling incoherently about their farm.

The farm had been overrun by walkers and her family had had to flee.

Patricia and Otis hadn’t made it, both of them getting taken down in the frenzy, but Jimmy had managed to get the truck running and grabbed Beth and Maggie. They had to convince Hershel to abandon the farm and get in the truck but get in the truck he had and made their way to Cynthiana.

Maggie, Beth and Jimmy had settled into town right away, helping where they were needed, and learning how to rid the town of walkers.

Hershel had taken just a tad longer, having been inconsolable about losing his family home, but seemed to settle in right alongside everyone else when he realized how much the group needed him.

Everyone, in the end, really just wanted to be needed.

_You included._

The family, and Jimmy, had managed to fit right in with the way things worked and before long became a part of their family as well.

Of course, every family had their issues, and this one was no different as Maggie had tormented poor Glenn heedlessly and incessantly (and make no mistake, _passionately_ ) before they did the sane thing and put everyone out of their misery and had sex.

Everyone had sighed a breath of relief, including Hershel.

Before long, Glenn had done the proper thing and made Maggie an honest woman, placing a beautiful wedding ring on her finger.

No one had asked where he had gotten the ring from but everyone was pretty sure they knew that there was a dead walker somewhere with a finger missing.

And now, all these months later, or what seemed like _years_ with them, they fought, and really, _acted_ , like an old married couple.

It was actually rather amusing.

And comforting.

Because it showed that life, despite the rising of the dead, would continue to be somewhat _normal_.

Rick sighed as Daryl kept nuzzling into the back of his neck, blowing on the growing curls that tickled his nose.

“You gonna fuck me right here while I look at them trees?” Rick said, almost too seductively.

“No,” Daryl growled as he spun Rick around anxiously. “Wanna look at you when I _fuck_ you.”

He roughly grabbed Rick’s cheeks to him, marveling at how soft the scruff felt, and kissed him, drinking in the way his lover’s lips and tongue twisted with his own in a sensual dance all their own.

There would never be an end to the total abandonment Daryl always felt when he was with Rick, the way they lost themselves with each other.

No end whatsoever.

Rick made quick work of his button up shirt, while Daryl threw off his vest, both men taking off their jeans, laughing at their own clumsiness as they each forget their shoes in their haste to rid themselves of their garments.

Before Daryl could go in for another hungry kiss, his lust for this man driving him forward with want and need, Rick pushed Daryl into the rather large deck chair that sat on the balcony, his lover then straddling his legs as he sat atop him.

They resumed their fevered attack on each others lips, their necks, their chests.

Their hands roamed freely over each other’s flesh, grasping and seizing parts of their bodies wherever they could.

It was too much yet not enough.

Rick maintained a frantic rhythm as he rutted against his member, Daryl managing to croak out, “gonna break Rick. Let me prepare you…”

“No,” Rick said as he lifted himself up and and sunk down on Daryl in a frenzy, impaling himself on Daryl’s cock.

“Holy fuck Rick!” Daryl bellowed in ecstasy.

_He’s going to kill me._

_This is it._

_This is how I’ll die._

_Not by a damn walker but by this beautiful man killing me in my euphoria!_

His lover had obviously prepared himself before Daryl had gotten to the church.

If it were even possible, Daryl had become even harder thinking about Rick, sitting by himself on the balcony while fingering himself, secure in the knowledge that Daryl would soon be up in the steeple to _take_ him.

“Knew you would be here,” Rick panted as he moved up and down wantonly on Daryl’s cock, fucking himself on it.

“Creature of… _oh yeah_ ,” Daryl moaned. “Habit I guess.”

“’S in your nature,” Rick said, his knowing smile far too lewd for his beautiful face.

Yes, it _was_ in his nature.

Just like Merle would always be prone to be an asshole around women, Daryl would _always_ be ready for Rick, would always seek him out.

To take him.

To _have_ him.

As their feverish rhythm started to slow down, Daryl was caught by Rick’s intense gaze, the man’s eyes seeming to bore right into him.

They locked eyes for what seemed like forever, completely there with each other, into each other, surrounded by each other.

 _This_ was what it was like with Rick.

Daryl would always be caught up in Rick.

And Rick would tear him apart, rend him limb from limb and put him back together again, just as Daryl was sure he did to Rick in turn.

Maybe _this_ was what love was all about.

Being with someone who could cause that most exquisite pain, because it was entirely too delicious, but who was there to put the pieces right back together again.

“God I love you,” Daryl gasped, completely gone at that moment, as he continued to look directly into Rick’s eyes.

Never missing a beat, Rick closed his eyes and pushed his forehead against Daryl. “I love you _so_ much, it scares me sometimes,” his lover whispered, almost brokenly.

“What Rick? _What_?” Daryl whispered, his own voice so fragmented to his own ears.

“I…I’ve forgotten everything but I don’t care. I just never wanna forget you,” Rick pleaded, his eyes echoing the same plea.

_See?_

_And you thought you were the only one who felt that way._

And just like that they both were kissing each other again, even though kissing seemed too delicate a word to use to describe the way they consumed each other with more than just their lips.

No, not consuming.

They were _absorbing_.

As if they were both trying to absorb the other’s insecurities and frailties.

Their pace had quickened furiously as both men continued to kiss each other, bite each other, grab whatever part of the other they could.

This was it.

This was not about pleasures of the flesh.

This was about them, joined together, _fused_ if you will, and showing that the other would never let go.

The two delirious lovers came simultaneously together, just as their hearts were fused together, both crying out their release, no profanities uttered, just their labored breathing, their foreheads seemingly welded together, whether by perspiration or their unwillingness to ever separate.

As Daryl tried to get his breathing back under control, he realized what he was feeling in that very moment.

Satisfaction, bliss, elation.

_Joy._

Honest to fucking God, accept no substitutions, _joy_.

Something Daryl had never felt in all of his miserable life, even before the damn apocalypse, but he felt it now.

It was _perfect_.

As a thoroughly drained Rick laid his head against Daryl’s chest, he could feel their heartbeats and he would swear, on a stack of bibles no less, their hearts were beating in tandem.

“I meant to tell you something before we…um, Rick chuckled. “Well, you know.”

_Yeah, you can’t exactly call what you guys just did fucking, now could you?_

No.

Because it was so much more.

“Yeah what?” Daryl asked as he stroked his fingers through Rick’s curls, loving how Rick’s hair had grown out.

“I _forgot_ ,” Rick snickered, a sleepy smile gracing his face as he did so.

“You do that a lot,” Daryl snickered right back.

As Daryl continued his gentle ministrations, both men languishing in their afterglow, craning his head ever so slightly, he could almost make out the tops of the cherry trees that Rick had been admiring when he had arrived up there.

Spring.

It had been half a year.

Half a year and life was hard, and scary, and there were people and things out there that wanted to kill you.

And it was the happiest half year of his whole goddamned life.

A shiver came over Daryl’s spine, thinking about something happening to Rick, or Rick forgetting who he was again, or what Daryl was to him.

Because if that ever happened, he would most assuredly walk out into the middle of a field, with his arms outstretched and offer himself up to the walkers, allowing them to rend him limb from limb.

It wouldn’t matter at that point, because his heart would have been torn apart before the walkers ever got to his body.

 

  
The woman’s POV

  
She stood just outside the perimeter of the city, her new pets chained to the tree.

She couldn’t do this any longer, roaming the countryside with nowhere to go, no goals in mind.

She had watched the people in town long enough.

They seemed to be good people.

She watched as the blond, curly headed woman argued with the tall redneck.

The woman seemed like the kind of person she could be friends with.

The kind of person she _used_ to be friends with.

She wasn’t sure about the redneck. She would have to keep an eye on him.

The two old men looked wise and seemed to be a stable influence on the group.

She liked to amuse herself watching the Asian man argue with the tall woman and then when they thought no one had been looking, kiss each other.

This was all normal.

She needed normal.

She had been on the road too long.

She even lost her beloved pets, the word beloved sticking in her craw. She had had to switch out several walkers, never quite getting used to any of them.

They made terrible conversational partners after all.

She watched the man they all called their leader.

She didn’t know why, but she knew she could trust him.

Not like that crazy bastard back at Woodbury.

She wasn’t sure, but she thought he might have figured out that she was watching them.

She caught sight of him up on the steeple and it looked like he might have spotted her but then the moment was gone when another man had joined him up there.

Yes, this seemed like a group she could trust, a leader she could trust.

She needed to warn them about the Governor.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, 3 guesses on who the woman is at the end and the first 2 don't count. ;P
> 
> I really love these 2 boys here so stick around for the fun!!!!
> 
> Also, comment so I know you're still around. Even if it's 'great update,' and you're not usually one to comment. Just curious.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments and feedback, no matter what you have to say.


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